


Sea of Expectations

by Astro_cat13



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Child Abuse, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Foster Care, Found Family, Homeless Peter Parker, Homophobia, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Physical Abuse, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovery, Tony Stark Has Issues, Verbal Abuse, im so sorry, unhealthy relationship with food
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astro_cat13/pseuds/Astro_cat13
Summary: What, outside of the famed Parker luck that Peter has become painfully familiar with, can explain his disaster of a life?Confidence hadn’t kept his parents’ plane from falling from the sky. Preparation hadn’t stopped the copper bullets from ripping through the flesh of his aunt and uncle, tearing Peter for the second time in his short life from the people tasked with taking care of him.Out of the hundreds of New York foster homes, Peter has the delightful opportunity of being placed into a house where the air is constantly thick with tension, the foster father a venomous snake, lurking for what seemed to be hours in an eerie calm until it's finally time for him to strike.---Peter has to navigate the events of Spider-Man: Homecoming while dealing having Thaddeus Ross as a deadbeat foster parent. Can Bucky's help finally break Peter out of the cycle of dead, absent, and abusive adults that he's found himself trapped in?
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Peni Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Thaddeus Ross
Comments: 89
Kudos: 248
Collections: Homeless Peter Parker





	1. Chapter 1

Peter can vividly remember how his Uncle Ben would say that good or bad luck was nothing but the wrong or right mix of opportunity, preparation, and confidence. As a kid, Peter had marvelled at his uncle's wisdom, at his sheer intelligence and grit. Peter had carried his uncle’s little sayings and outlooks on life close to his heart, treasuring them as other kids would a beloved toy or doll.

Now, though, Peter can’t help but roll his eyes at that sentiment.

No such thing as bad luck? What, outside of the famed Parker luck that Peter has become painfully familiar with, could explain his disaster of a life? 

Confidence hadn’t kept his parents’ plane from falling from the sky. Preparation hadn’t stopped the copper bullets from ripping through the flesh of his aunt and uncle, tearing Peter for the second time in his short life from the people tasked with taking care of him.

Out of the hundreds of New York foster homes, Peter has the delightful opportunity of being placed into a house where the air is constantly thick with tension, the foster father a venomous snake, lurking for what seems to be hours in an eerie calm until it's finally time for him to strike.

Of course, Peter figures Secretary Ross isn’t all that bad. All four kids have access to food and clean water, and even though they’re all crammed into the same bedroom, they each get their own bed. Well, technically they’re bunk beds, but that doesn’t really bother Peter. In fact, it kind of reminds him of his old room at May and Ben’s apartment.

Which, of course, only makes him sad again.

It’s not like Ross was home much anyway. When he was at home, he was working in his bedroom until the early hours of the morning, and unfortunately for them, Ross only seemed to have the time to pay them any mind when he was pissed about something. Which, admittedly, was growing to become more and more frequent in Peter’s case. 

A small part of Peter felt some semblance of responsibility for the others. He knew it was stupid, since they were all going through the exact same thing, but the idea of Harry, Gwen, or Peni getting hurt felt worse to Peter than if he himself was the one getting hurt. 

The unfortunate truth is, as much as Peter may hate the fact, there’s not much he can do about it. After all, he’s just a regular kid.

\--------------

“If you could have one superpower, what would it be?” 

The question is brought up absent-mindedly, as an attempt to break the awkward silence that Peter and his foster sister have fallen into. The rare moment of calm is nice, Peter has to admit, but the scarcity of the moment only adds to the trepidation that he feels coursing through all of his being. 

“Maybe healing? Not like super-healing for me, I’d want to be able to use the power to heal whoever I want.” Peter sucks in a breath of cool night air, trying to figure out exactly how to vocalize his thoughts. “I’d just want to help people. Whatever power allows me to help as many people as possible, that’s what I’d choose.” 

“Wow.” 

Gwen’s giggles at the sheer sincerity of Peter’s answer are interrupted as Harry stepped out of the cramped house that they all called home, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. “You have to be kidding me, that’s such a Peter answer. I would have said super-strength like any rational human being.” 

Gwen’s giggles erupt into full-blown laughter as Peter’s brows furrow in confusion. “A ‘Peter’ answer? What does that even mean?”

Gwen takes a deep breath, calming herself down enough to utter a short, “Harry’s right, Peter,” before going back to shaking with laughter.

“Fuck you guys.” Despite himself, Peter smiles as he plucks the cigarette from between his foster brother’s lips and takes a long drag from it. “What about you, Gwen? What do you have in mind that’s so much better than healing?”

“Teleportation.”

Harry lets out a chuckle of disbelief. “You’re serious? Man, you’re both terrible at choosing superpowers.”

Peter tries to brush it off, but the insult stings more than it should. “What would you even do with superstrength? At least healing and teleportation are both somewhat useful.” 

“Have you seen the Hulk? Thor? Captain America? I could do whatever I want with super strength.”

Gwen scoffs. “Banner’s a genius, Thor’s a god, and Captain America’s a billion-year-old war hero.”

“Whatever,” Harry grumbles, obviously put off by Gwen’s teasing comment. “It’s freezing out here. You’re both idiots, and I’m going to bed.” He flicks the cigarette butt onto the ground before stomping on it, and climbing the steps to the house without a second thought.

Peter groans, bending down to pick up the litter. “Idiot. What does he think will happen when Ross comes home and sees trash on the stairs? Delinquent teenagers can’t be good for Ross’s image, so you know he’d for sure flip out over a cigarette.”

Gwen leans down to cup Peter’s cheek in her hand, and sticks her bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Oh, Petey-pie, you couldn’t be a delinquent if you tried.”

“Hey!” Peter slaps her hand away. “I could be rebellious if I wanted to! Drugs, violence- uh, late schoolwork-”

Peter trails off as Gwen breaks into another fit of giggles. “You’re killing me, Parker, I can’t handle it anymore. I should probably head inside, too. I’m on dishes today.”

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “Same, I have homework.”

“My point exactly.” Gwen turned and smirked at Peter before heading inside.

Peter refuses to respond to his foster sister’s attack on his character, because he’s a mature individual. Plus, he actually does have a bunch of work that he has to do. 

“Peter, what the fuck?”

Gwen’s shout comes from the kitchen, and even though Peter knows that it’s probably nothing, it still has his heart pounding in his chest as he sprints over to where she is. “What? What is it?”

When Peter slides into the kitchen, he’s met with the sight of Gwen holding up his backpack, which at this point was made more of duct tape than of fabric. “I’ve told you a million times not to leave your school stuff lying around. Just because you go to that fancy school now- what’s this?”

Her face morphs from confusion to disbelief as she reads the top paper from the crumpled stack sitting on top of the feat of engineering that Peter calls his backpack. “A Stark Internship application? Do they even hire teenagers?”

Peter feels his face heat up. “No, I- not usually, so I probably won’t get it. My physics teacher said that I should still apply, though.”

“Fuck, that’s crazy. Could your school please hurry up and process my scholarship application? Having adults that actually care about what you do with your life must be wild.” Gwen tries to keep her tone light, but Peter can still hear the note of panic that comes up any time she mentions her application.

“You’ll get it. You’re literally ten times smarter than any of the kids at Midtown.”

Gwen offers him a soft smile. “Thanks.” 

She continues leafing through the papers, and smirks once she realizes what she’s looking at. “None of this is your homework, is it? The names are all different.”

“Peter Parker’s paper-writing service will promote a near-perfect grade point average for a very select part of Midtown Tech’s student population.”

Gwen smiles, only a little concerned for Peter’s sanity. “Rich kids actually pay you to do their homework?”

Peter beams, obviously proud of himself. “Worksheets are five bucks per page, essays and book reports are thirty-five bucks a pop!”

Gwen nods in approval before going back to the stack of papers, organizing them by subject since Peter evidently doesn’t know how to do it himself. 

Peter raises his eyebrows, surprised by Gwen’s efforts. “You know you don’t have to organize my stuff, right? I have a system.”

“Yeah, it’s just a bad system- holy shit.” Her eyes grow even wider when she notices the next paper in the stack she’s holding. “Is this a permission slip for Oscorp?”

Peter pales at the reminder. “I completely forgot about that!”

“You forgot about a field trip to Oscorp?” Gwen frowns, glaring at the paper in her hands. “How- oh my god, Peter, this is tomorrow. You’re seriously throwing away the opportunity to take a tour of Oscorp? I mean, I know you prefer Stark Industries, but science is science.”

“It costs twenty-five dollars.” Peter looks at the ground, not wanting to meet Gwen’s eyes. “Plus, I need Ross’s signature, and I just haven’t gotten around to asking him yet-”

“I’ll forge it for you.” The unexpected voice makes Peter jump, but when he whirls around, he’s met with the sight of Harry leading a sleepy-eyed Peni to the kitchen by her hand. “I’ve known how to fake his signature since I was fourteen.”

Peter shakes his head, about to respond, but Gwen cuts him off. “Peni, baby, why are you awake? It’s late, is everything okay?”

“She had a nightmare,” Harry groans. “Wouldn’t go back to sleep until I made her some cheerios. What nine-year-old can’t make their own cheerios?”

“I’ll get you some cereal, Peni,” Peter says, automatically padding across the kitchen. “And Harry, we all know his signature, that’s not the issue here. Pretty much all of the elite high schools in the state will be there-” Harry makes a face at the word ‘elite,’ but Peter ignores him. “-Which means there will be media coverage, which means he’ll see that it’s happening, and if I go without asking he’ll know I faked the signature.” 

“Yeah, you know, and there’s the whole issue of that twenty-five dollar fine-” Harry’s teasing tone was cut off as Peter firmly placed a bowl of expertly-made cheerios in front of the sleepy nine-year-old, who offered a small “thank you” as Peter handed her a spoon.

“Shut up, Harry, you know I’m just trying to spend money wisely. Is a tour really worth twenty-five dollars when we could use it to buy a whole meal for the four of us? I don’t want to be selfish. And if I skip the field trip, I can pick up an extra shift at Delmar’s instead.”

Peni, Gwen, and Harry collectively groan. “You’re not selfish, Peter,” Harry says firmly. “It’s your money. Go on the damn field trip, although I don’t know why you’d even want a tour of my dead illegitimate father’s company, that place is a dump.”

Peter’s mouth opens in horror, and he struggles to find words to say. “I- oh my god, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot that Oscorp… your father, how could I forget? It completely slipped my mind-”

“It’s fine.” Harry cuts off Peter’s frantic apology with a forced grin. “The bastard’s long dead, so as far as I’m concerned, Oscorp is just a company. Yeah, the fact that I was written out of his will before I was even born kinda sucks, but it’s fine. It has cool science stuff, you’re allowed to go and enjoy cool science stuff even though the guy responsible for it was a huge prick.”

Peter opens his mouth to argue, but is cut off by the sound of the front door slamming open. The calm seems to drain out of the room as they all freeze, holding their breath as they watch Ross hang up his coat, set his briefcase down, and amble into the kitchen. 

Power seems to almost ooze from the man. He carries the stench of fresh money wherever he goes, although of course, none of the kids have ever seen the benefits of said money and power.

Instead, Ross’s gift to each of his wards is one that lingers in their hearts even when the man is nowhere to be found, which turns out to be a common occurrence.

Terror.

“Why the fuck is she eating cereal in the middle of the night?” The air suddenly grows even colder, fear practically radiating off of the four kids.

Peter takes an instinctive step between Peni and the man before responding. “I got it out for her, sir. I’m sorry-” He bites his tongue as he practically feels Gwen’s eye roll from all the way across the room. 

“Can you sign Peter’s permission slip?” Peter has to suppress a flinch at the blatant question, Gwen’s harsh tone only making the whole situation so much worse. Sometimes, Peter has to admit, it almost feels like while the rest of them are walking on eggshells, Gwen is the one making the omelette. “Oscorp is giving tours tomorrow, and a bunch of prestigious schools are participating,” she continues, demonstrating how convincing she is when she needs to be. “If he goes, it could be good publicity.” 

The silence that ensues does nothing to ease the tension flooding the air, but each kid knows the weight behind the argument that Gwen had just made. 

Ross is a businessman. None of them are really sure what he actually does, and no one has been brave enough to ask and risk suffering through a prolonged awkward conversation with the man, but they do know that publicity is the only reason that they’re living in the house. When public image is involved, decisions in Secretary Ross’s household seem to suddenly become no-brainers.

“Well? Is somebody going to get me a pen or what?”

\--------------

As much as Peter hates to admit it, he was excited to tour Oscorp. Why wouldn’t he be? A job in STEM would literally be a dream come true, so getting to see scientists at work is almost too much for him to handle. 

“This is so awesome!” Ned is practically vibrating with excitement beside Peter, and he can’t even try to stop himself from beaming at his friend’s joy. Peter can’t remember the last time he saw his friend this happy. 

“I mean, it’s definitely no Stark Industries, but it’ll do.” Peter grins playfully at Ned, who is too pumped to even register Peter’s blatant jab at Oscorp. 

The lobby is filled with tour groups, and the chaos is enough to put Peter on edge as he anxiously tries to stay with his class. The last thing he wants is for the school to have to call Ross and tell him that Peter had gotten lost on a field trip that he was barely even allowed to go to.

The group stops, and Peter takes the opportunity to get some shots of the Oscorp lobby for the school paper. If he’s being honest, only one or two of his pictures will probably even end up in the paper, but he’s too keyed-up to even try to distinguish necessary pictures from unnecessary ones. Anyway, Peter figures that it's better to have too many pictures than not enough. 

“Hey, Peter, do you want to come to a GSA meeting after the trip? I know you usually don’t, but if you wanted to tag along, you totally could!” Peter smiled at Ned’s obvious attempt to distract him from his own anxiety, which must have been evident in his body language, but he shook his head. 

“I need to go home after. There’s some stuff I have to do around the house- oh, Ned!” Peter stops in his tracks when he sees a huge Oscorp sign. “This is perfect! If you pose in front of that sign, I can take your picture!” 

Ned beams as he scrambles to get in front of the sign.

“Okay. A little to the left-”

“Parker!” 

Peter jumps at the unexpected voice, almost dropping his camera, but Ned only smiles wider. “MJ! Perfect timing. Peter’s taking my picture, and I was thinking you could write the article to go along with it. What do you think about ‘Teenage genius Ned Leeds yet again saves the world from certain destruction’ as the title?”

MJ smirks. “How about ‘Teenage nerd fanboys over corporation responsible for decades of war profiteering’?”

“What are you talking about? Stark Industries is responsible for so much more war profiteering! In comparison, Oscorp’s done basically nothing.” Ned exclaims.

Peter can’t keep himself from butting in. “It’s not a competition, but for the record, Tony Stark is an ex-war profiteer. There’s a difference.” 

MJ and Ned both roll their eyes, as is their standard course of action when Peter obsesses over Stark Industries. Before either of them can respond, the tour guide is leading their group to one of the display rooms. 

“If you’ll look to the right, you’ll see the labs of our highly esteemed scientists! The people in this wing of the building all study genetic mutation, the research of which is, of course, very strictly regulated due to… recent events. Safety is our number one priority here at Oscorp.”

Multiple people in the group nod in understanding. Peter vaguely remembers reading a story about the Avengers blowing up a building, so he supposes it’s not unlikely for companies like Oscorp that have divisions in mutation could be brought under fire. 

“Over here, we have eight genetically mutated spiders! You guys can go look at them, just don’t tap on the glass.”

The class crowds around the enclosure, but MJ frowns and furrows her brow. “There are only seven spiders.” 

The tour guide cocks her head before glancing to the enclosure in confusion. “Huh. The scientists must be working on the eighth one.” 

MJ nods skeptically, but Peter has an idea. “Hey, pose in front of the spiders! It would be such a cool picture!” 

MJ scoffs, yet she still complies with Peter’s request. “Here?”

“Oh my god you’re perfect!” Peter gets a few shots, but almost drops his camera again when he feels a sharp pinch on the back of his hand. He instinctively smacks the back of his hand against his hip, careful to keep his camera undamaged, and winces. “Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” MJ’s tone is full of concern, but Peter just nods.

“Yeah, let’s catch up with the group.” Peter takes extra care to make sure that his camera is hanging securely from his neck before he and MJ set off to rejoin their classmates. 

Peter sighs in relief once he spots their tour group, but right when he’s about to jog the rest of the way to catch up with Ned, MJ stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I overheard you talking to Ned before. You seemed uncomfortable.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, dumbfounded. “What?”

“You know, when he brought up the GSA thing. He cares about you a lot, and obviously I do too. I guess I’m just trying to say that we’re here for you.”

Peter has to hold back a wince. With his sob-story of a childhood, he’s pretty used to the abundance of pitying glances and sad smiles, but he hadn’t expected it from MJ of all people.

“I’m good, MJ, really. Secure in my sexuality and all that, I’m seriously just busy today-”

“Do you need service hours? For graduation, I mean.” 

Peter gapes at the sudden change of subject, but he decides to indulge MJ. “...Yeah? Why?” In lieu of an answer, MJ pulls out a bright pink flier from her bag. Peter takes the paper from MJ’s hands, frowning at her as he does so. “What’s this?”

“A soup kitchen is opening in Hell’s Kitchen, with a focus on providing food for homeless LGBT youth.” Peter glanced down at the paper in his hands, seeing that it displayed the same information, followed by a statement from the Midtown Tech GSA. 

“The whole GSA is volunteering at a soup kitchen?” Peter has to admit, that’s pretty impressive.

MJ almost smiles. “Yep, I was actually the one who organized it. We’re only helping out for a week or two, but the kitchen should be on its feet by the time we’re done, so they can hire permanent volunteers who aren’t… well, you know, highschoolers.” 

“That’s awesome, MJ!” Peter folded the flier carefully and stuffed it into his sweatshirt pocket. “Can I help? I mean, even though I never go to meetings?”

“Yeah, of course! Anyone can help. Plus, Ned and I have been talking for weeks about how nice it would be to spend more time with you.”

Peter blushes. “You guys spend plenty of time with me-”

“We miss you, dude. Just- come to this, please? It would be so much fun. Plus, you’re into the whole ‘helping people’ thing, right?”

“Yeah, I’d love to go.” Peter smiles softly, unsure of what he could have ever done to deserve such caring friends. 

“MJ! Peter! Get your asses over here before I leave you behind! You’re both seriously slower than snails in the winter!”

Peter chuckles as he and MJ make their way over to Ned, whose yelling had begun to disrupt surrounding tour groups. 

\--------------

Peter feels awful.

His skin feels like it’s on fire, his head is splitting in half, and the nausea alone is enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

The back of his hand feels like it’s literally radiating heat, and when Peter brings it up to his face in the pitch dark of his shared bedroom, he swears the welt that’s been growing even larger through the night looks infected. 

After laying awake for hours in silent agony, trying desperately to remember what could have possibly hurt him this badly, he has an epiphany. 

Oscorp. His hand.

Whatever had stung his hand at Oscorp must be what’s causing everything. Just his luck, really. It’s probably some kind of radiation that’s slowly killing him from the inside out. He’ll be dead by morning, or maybe even sooner. Harry will wake up in the bunk above his corpse, poor little Peni will wake up in the bed right beside him, to the sight of his stiff body as it begins to cool and decompose-

“Fuck.” 

His entire body erupts into a world of searing pain, before the world goes black.

\--------------

“Peter? Peter-”

Peter jolts awake to the sound of Gwen’s terrified shouts. “What- oh, fuck. I don’t feel so good-”

“Yeah, no shit you don’t feel good. You’re burning up.”

A gasp comes from the doorway of the cramped room, and when Peter sits up painfully, he’s met with the sight of a terrified-looking Peni being held by an equally terrified Harry. “I’m fine, guys. I’ll be okay, I’m just-”

He’s cut off by a wave of nausea, strong enough to send him back down to the bed. 

“I can take Peni to her school,” Gwen offers gently. “Harry, can you call Delmar’s and tell them Peter can’t come to his shift today-”

“I’m fine!” Peter cuts her off weakly, and Harry raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “We can’t afford for me to miss this shift, come on guys! Harry’s still unemployed, and even with Gwen’s job and my job put together, we barely have enough money saved up when we end up needing it! You know how I feel about that, I need savings for the future, and we can’t-”

“It’s not your job to provide us with money. It’s Ross’s.” Harry’s cold tone cuts off Peter’s rambling. “We all know he has the resources, he just doesn’t care about us. Anyway, what’s the worst that happens if Ross stops buying food again, or fucks off his mansion or wherever he goes without giving us any warning? Social services will find out eventually, Peni might get a real foster family, and the three of us just go to a group home until we turn eighteen. At least it would be better than this bullshit.”

“We’re a real foster family,” Peter whispers, eyes burning. 

Harry just glances down at him with sad eyes. “A real foster family needs a real foster parent, Peter. If Ross didn’t need to be seen as a ‘working-class man supporting his family,’ he wouldn’t even own this tiny fucking house, let alone still have us around. You know he hates it here even more than we do.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this right now,” Gwen huffs. “Harry, Peni, go to school. Peter, go see if we have any advil that’s not expired.”

Peter is about to argue, but feels a pang of guilt when he sees the tears in Peni’s eyes. Wordlessly, he pulls himself up from the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, searching through the medicine cabinet until he finds some painkillers that are only expired by a few months. 

He pops two in his mouth and washes them down with tap water, splashing some on his face in a desperate attempt to bring his temperature down. Peter sighs and rubs his hands over his sore face. 

As he stares at his reflection, Peter realizes something.

He can see.

He can see his reflection crystal-clear in the glass, and he can see that he’s not wearing his glasses.

“Peter?”

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Ross’s snarling voice echoing through the house. Peter hobbles painfully to the source of the sound, still internally marvelling at how clear everything is.

Ross scowls at Peter as he steps into the kitchen. “So you think you can skip school just like that, huh? You think I’m stupid?”

Peter stares at him dumbly, and the man takes a step closer. “You’re going to school. Do you know why you’re going to school?”

“I-” Peter tries to talk, but he has to cut himself off as a wave of nausea flows through his stomach. 

“You’re going to school because I know you’re a liar by nature. Well, let me tell you something, your laziness isn’t a valid excuse to skip school. Midtown has been kind enough to provide you with a free ride--one you don’t deserve, may I add--and this is how you act? I can’t-”

Peter gags, coughs, and finally vomits on Ross, staining his crisp, white work shirt. He stares at the man in horror, and the expression he’s met with is one of pure disgust. 

They lock eyes for a few seconds, before Ross removes his hand from where they are resting on his puke-stained shirt, and backhands Peter, and the quickly-cooling vomit coating Ross’s hand makes Peter’s eyes and nose burn. The angry sound reverberates through the kitchen, and Peter instinctually brings his hand up to cover his smarting cheek.

Wordlessly, Ross goes back to his bedroom, but it takes Peter a few minutes to move.

His head is spinning, his cheek is burning, and his mouth tastes like vomit. 

Peter tries his hardest to work up the motivation to clean up the puddle of vomit on the kitchen floor, but he can’t. Instead, he forces himself back into the bathroom, where he brushes his teeth.

He might as well do his best to save himself from any unnecessary discomfort. 

Peter went to put his toothbrush down, but he couldn’t.

Unsure if it was just his fever-addled brain playing tricks on him, he tries again, but it stays firmly on his hand.

What the fuck?

He backs into the wall in surprise, but just ends up sticking.

Why was Peter so sticky? Was he dying? Was it-

Oscorp.

The spider room. He must have been bitten by one of the radioactive spiders. Which means-

“Oh, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful beta of this story is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting). 
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought about it! comments and kudos are always very welcome :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for mild blood, mentions of sexual abuse, and homophobia

Peter spends the rest of the day in bed, unable to effectively wrap his head around his sudden change in circumstance. 

Is it possible that the spider bite somehow mutated his DNA? A frantic google search reveals that it is theoretically possible. The rest of the article, however, makes it very clear that Peter should be dead.

So, what does that mean? Is he a mutant now?

Peter feels himself begin to panic. That would be… problematic, to say the least. Peter may be too preoccupied to pay close attention to the news, but even he knows that enhanced individuals aren’t exactly loved by the general public at the moment.

Not to mention Ross would probably have an aneurism over the amount of bad press he’d get if it was discovered that one of his foster children is secretly a freak-

Peter takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. His fever seems to be going away, and he can learn to live with whatever’s going on. It might be weird at first, but Peter figures that he just has to learn how to not stick to things.

Currently, however, it’s not going very well. In fact, Peter thinks one of the worst sensations he’s ever experienced is the feeling of his thin cotton bed sheets stuck to his entire body, twisting and rubbing against his sensitive skin. 

It feels almost as if each of Peter’s senses is trying to kill him. It takes a while for him to actually notice, but once he does, he can think of nothing else. 

The splitting headache that Peter had assumed to be caused by the fever lingers long after the fever’s gone, and his eyes and ears are on fire. Everything’s too loud, too bright, and too rough on his skin, and frankly, it’s exhausting. 

The idea that his senses might be screwed up like this for the rest of his life is almost enough to make Peter burst into tears. 

Why him? Peter knows that it’s a pretty immature question to ask, but seriously, what kind of luck is that?

As if his life isn’t bad enough already. 

Well, at least he’s not dead. The worst of the fever seems to have passed, and with his departure from what felt like death’s door, Peter realizes very quickly that he hasn’t eaten anything all day. 

Peter’s brow furrows when he realizes just how hungry he is. Maybe it’s a part of his seemingly enhanced senses?

Do spiders get hungry easily? Peter really has to do some spider research.

Peter steps over the hardened puddle of vomit on the kitchen floor, making a mental note to clean it up as soon as he no longer feels like he’s literally starving- holy shit, spiders must get hungry so fast, Peter’s stomach is beginning to cramp up.

“Maybe I should go to the library,” Peter chuckles to himself as he goes to open the refrigerator. “I could check out a copy of Charlotte's Web and- fuck!”

Peter stares in disbelief at the severed refrigerator door in his hand.

Did he just… break the refrigerator? He barely even pulled, it should have just opened! 

The door falls to the ground with a loud crash, and Peter still can’t believe what had just happened. Are spiders even strong?

Peter grabs an apple from the now permanently-open fridge, and retreats back to his bedroom.

He has a lot of thinking to do. And, evidently, research to conduct. 

\--------------

Peter’s fucked. 

Once he finally convinces himself to get up and look at the damage in the kitchen, he’s able to clean up the vomit, but there’s no way Peter can fix the refrigerator before Ross gets home. Also, there’s the whole issue of explaining exactly how it got broken in the first place without revealing his… newfound issue.

He’s debated just telling the truth about what’s going on, and to be honest, he could use the help.

The problem is, Ross has made his stance on the whole ‘war against supers’ thing very clear. If he were to find out, there’s no telling what would happen to Peter, and that’s not really a risk that he’s willing to take after all of the horror stories he’s read about enhanced individuals during one of his intense googling sessions. 

The best course of action, Peter decides, is to buy the parts he needs to replace the door. Yeah, he’s taking a pretty big risk in going out without permission, and he might get in trouble for not being home when Ross gets there, but he’d get in trouble for breaking the door anyway. 

Plus, Peter’s always been kind of a people-pleaser. Just the idea of Gwen’s face dropping in disappointment once she realizes the fridge is broken and all the food will go bad is enough to get Peter to pick up his pace on the way home from the hardware store.

The contents of the paper bag he’s carrying ended up putting a huge dent in Peter’s savings, but he figures he probably deserves that. Anyway, Ross had more campaign stuff to do, so it was unlikely that he’d have the chance to temporarily move to one of his other properties under the radar and leave the kids alone.

Peter hates that Ross’s periodic departures never fail to make his blood boil. The fact that he can easily shirk his responsibility when it was inconvenient for him is annoying, but not surprising. He’s a politician, after all. 

The thing that really bugs Peter, though, is the fact that he could easily take the kids with him. He has properties where each kid could have their own room, and the only reason they’re all cramped into a house that’s way too small for four kids is Ross’s own image. 

Apparently, people in high places like a family man who built his life from the ground up.

Well, Ross may not be either, but he sure is good at playing the part when he has to.

It feels like he should be used to abandonment, and Ross was kind of an asshole so it shouldn’t matter anyway, but for some reason neglect and leaving the kids to fend for themselves bothered Peter more than anything else the man had done.

It’s stupid, really. Ross had made it perfectly clear that he only became a foster parent for publicity, and the other kids seem to accept it just fine, so why can’t Peter?

On his walk home from the hardware store, everything is so much harsher than Peter’s used to it being. If he thought it was bad when he was alone in his bedroom, it was about a thousand times worse on the streets of New York City, where flashing lights and intense smells were unavoidable. He can hear everything, and as hard as he tries to filter it out, Peter can’t. 

He takes a deep breath, and wills himself to keep going. He’s almost at the store, and Ross could be home any minute. The other kids are probably already at the house, he has to-

The nerves at the base of Peter’s neck explode.

It feels like every cell in his body is vibrating, and his heart is about to burst out of his chest. 

That’s not what Peter’s focused on, though. The sudden all-encompassing terror that suddenly fills his entire being is what he’s keyed-in on. 

Terror isn’t quite the right word, Peter realizes. It’s more like dread.

Anticipation.

His neck lights up again, and Peter feels electricity run down his spine. A glance over his shoulder reveals the source of the dread.

A car is speeding toward a train full of people, showing no sign of stopping. 

Suddenly, everything goes quiet. The car is the only thing that exists.

Peter’s running, but his legs feel like they’re moving of their own accord. His paper bag is over his head, protecting his face from the public’s scrutiny. He has no recollection of putting it there, but there are more important things for Peter to worry about. 

He can’t see, but he doesn’t have to. The way that he can sense the car is kind of terrifying, he just knows where it is without thinking about it. Peter knows exactly where to throw his frail body to keep the car from crashing into the train, and exactly when to catch the car, effectively absorbing the object’s momentum. 

Holy shit.

Peter’s heart is pounding, his biceps burn as he places the car down on the ground-

Why the fuck did he just do that?

He was only kind of certain that he had super strength. What kind of person just catches a runaway car without a second thought? He must be going crazy. 

That’s when it finally hits him: he just caught a car with his bare hands with a paper bag on his head being the only thing stopping him from being outed to the world as an enhanced individual.

Peter can practically feel the stares of the dozens of strangers that must have just watched that happen.

He turns and runs blindly in the direction that he came in, flinching at the barrage of shrill car horns as he crosses streets that he can’t see. 

Peter’s legs are still shaking from lingering shock when he finally comes to a stop in what he thinks must be an alley. After listening for a few seconds, Peter determines that there’s no one in the immediate area, so he carefully removes the bag from his head.

The natural light stings his eyes, and Peter lets out a breath that he’d had no idea he was holding. 

That was crazy.

The paper bag is light in Peter’s hands, and he groans as he realizes that he must have dumped the contents of the bag on the ground before putting it on his head to catch the car.

Honestly, what is his life?

Peter trudges back to the hardware store, internally mourning the loss of what little money he’d saved up.

\--------------

“Peter?”

Peter freezes in his tracks, still in the process of climbing through his bedroom window. He breathes a sigh of relief once he actually looks up and sees the person calling his name. “Fuck, Harry, you scared me.”

Harry stumbles across the room to help Peter in, confusion visible on his face. “What did you do to the fridge?”

Peter winces at the question. He really has to think of an explanation for that, doesn’t he?

Instead of answering, Peter dodges the question, holding up his paper bag full of parts. “I bought what I need to fix it, so it’s fine! The hinges just snapped off, so all I have to do is replace those, and we’re good!”

He smiles, proud of himself for even knowing how to fix the refrigerator, but Harry just looks at him like he’s crazy. “Are you okay, dude?”

Peter nods quickly, and Harry raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything. 

Trying his best to keep the fear off of his face, Peter heads to the kitchen to fix the refrigerator door. He prays that the kitchen will be empty when he gets there, when do Parkers get what they want?

“Big day today, huh?” Ross’s sneer is audible in his voice, and Peter’s stomach lurches.

“I’m sorry about the door, sir, I have the parts right here to fix it-”

Peter goes silent as Ross fixes him with a stone-cold glare. Suddenly, the man turns to the table, and addresses the two girls that Peter hadn’t noticed were there. “Gwen, Peni, why don’t you give us some space?” His lips curl up in a threatening smile. “We need to have a conversation man-to-man.”

Gwen locks eyes with Peter, and he gives her a miniscule nod. It’s better that Peni isn’t around with Ross like this, and frankly, Peter deserves whatever’s going to happen to him.

Wordlessly, she takes Peni by the hand and walks out the door, leaving Peter alone in the kitchen, tension almost palpable in the air. 

“What the fuck did you do to my refrigerator?” 

Peter takes an instinctual step back before scrambling to come up with a coherent answer. “I- um, I was climbing on it, Secretary Ross, and it… broke.”

Peter wants to scream. Climbing on the refrigerator? There’s no way that Ross would buy that!

“I can’t believe you.” Ross’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Peter, and the boy looks at the ground, searching frantically for a way out of the corner he’d just backed himself into with his terrible lie. “Climbing on the refrigerator, Peter? I just-”

Ross pinches the bridge of his nose in exaspiraton, and Peter’s eyes dart to meet his. Does Ross actually believe him?

“I’ll fix it, sir,” Peter ventures, voice small. “I have the parts right here.”

“That’s not the issue here,” Ross snaps. “You really think you can disobey my authority here? You’re seriously sticking it to me climbing on my fucking furnature instead of going to school? I don’t know what’s going on here, but you need to cut it out.”

Peter nods quickly, but Ross just takes a step closer and grabs the boy’s arm, squeezing hard enough to make Peter grimace. 

“I’m in charge here. Don’t forget that.”

Suddenly, Peter’s a ten-year-old kid in his aunt and uncle’s apartment, quivering under the soft touches of the teenager, whose cruel smile was what made him wake up screaming every night. 

He looks up in terror to the man who was holding him, and logically, Peter knows that it’s just Ross. It has to be Ross, Skip left for college years ago, he’s gone for good.

Still, for a second, he could have sworn that it was Skip’s icy blue eyes glaring down at him.

“-You’re here because of my generosity,” Ross continues, oblivious to Peter’s inner turmoil. “I can easily call your social worker and tell her to take you away to a group home. You still have, what, two years before you turn eighteen? Do you really want to give up the comfortable life you have here?”

‘It’s far from comfortable,’ Peter wants to yell. It’s not fair.

Why is nothing ever fair?

“No, sir,” Peter squeaks out instead. 

Ross finally lets go of his arm, but the glare stays plastered firmly on his face. “I put up with a lot, Peter, but there is one thing that I will accept, and that is underachievers like you thinking that the world owes them something. You’re a troubled teenager, I see it now. I need to keep a closer eye on you.”

Peter has to hold back a snort at Ross’s last comment. Keep a closer eye on him? If Peter were to go missing, it would probably take Ross a week to notice.

“There’s something else here that we need to address here, though. I think you know what it is.” Ross’s tone drops, becoming more dangerous, and Peter gulps.

What could he be talking about? Peter searches for an obvious answer, but he can’t figure it out. Is it possible that Ross somehow knows about the spider bite and has been bluffing this whole time?

“I know why you’ve been acting up. I figured out why you’ve been breaking things, sneaking out, skipping school…” Ross trails off as he shuffles through his pants pocket, pulling out a bright pink piece of paper and brandishing it in Peter’s face, holding the paper as one would a dead animal.

It takes Peter a few seconds to realize what the paper is, but once he does, his stomach drops. 

It’s the flier for the GSA volunteer event that MJ had handed him.

“Where did you get that?” The question comes out shakier than Peter intends it to, but he still glares up at his foster father.

Ross just smirks. “Your room, when I was looking through your things.”

“Why the fuck were you doing that? You can’t just-” Peter splutters, cut off as a punch to the stomach knocks the wind out of him. He wheezes as pain blossoms through his abdomen, trying desperately to keep himself from doubling over. 

“I always knew that you were an attention whore, but even I didn’t think it had gotten this bad,” Ross continues, as if he didn’t just cause a teenager to double over in pain. “I just can’t believe you would go this far to spite me. I mean, I know you don’t especially like me, but seriously? Homosexuality?” 

Peter gasps, trying desperately to get his lungs to fill with air.

“You know that I have an image to maintain. Does a child who’s decided that he enjoys taking it up the ass fit into the ideal American household? Of course not. I don’t care if you think you’re gay, you have to-”

“I’m bisexual,” Peter wheezes out defiantly. “Not gay.”

The correction is met with another punch, this time to the face. 

“I don’t give a damn what you think you are,” Ross spits out angrily as Peter clutches his now-bleeding nose. “If you ever go to one of those fairy-ass charity events and--heaven forbid--get seen at one, you’re out of here. I'm serious, you keep this up and I'll send you to one of those residential treatment centers.”

Peter wants to argue. He wants to cry, to scream in Ross’s face about how it’s not fair, about how he’d thought he was done with homophobic assholes ruining his life when Skip left for college.

Instead, he just nods. 

“Go clean yourself up,” Ross sighs, as if it’s some kind of chore to deal with the aftermath of his own abuse. “Fix the refrigerator when you’re done.”

Peter nodded awkwardly, doing his best to avoid getting any of the globs of warm blood cascading from his burning nose on the floor as he scurried out of the kitchen. 

He makes a beeline to the bathroom, but stops when Gwen calls out to him from their bedroom. “What did he want?”

Peter winces, unsure what to say, so he stays quiet until Gwen finally turns and locks eyes with him. “Holy shit, Peter, you’re bleeding!” 

“Yeah,” Peter says lamely, grabbing a roll of toilet paper and tearing off a few squares to clean up his bloody nose. “I- uh, broke the refrigerator.”

In spite of herself, Gwen snorts. “Yeah, genius. I saw that.”

After a beat of silence, Gwen grabs the roll of toilet paper from Peter and tears off her own square. “Here, your face is literally covered in blood, you’re not getting any of it. Let me help you.” She carefully begins to wipe dried blood under Peter’s nose, but all he can focus on is how the motion causes her sleeve to ride up, revealing clear fingerprint-like bruises circling her wrist. 

“Gwen… what’s that from?” The girl raises a brow in confusion, but quickly realizes that Peter’s staring at her wrists. 

“He looked through all of our stuff when he realized that you were gone. Didn’t like that we’re autonomous fucking human beings, I guess.” Gwen shoots Peter a small smile, but her tone is completely humorless. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. If I had realized…” Peter trails off, terror pooling in his gut at the realization that his bad decisions are actively harming the people he cares about, and he didn’t even know.

“It’s fine.” Gwen smirks, shrugging off Peter’s apology. “You should see Harry. He’s way worse-”

“What’s worse?” Harry’s voice startles Peter, and when he whirls around to face the boy, Peter’s guilt doubles. 

Harry’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his slender waist when he approaches Peter from behind. To the teen’s horror, his torso is a mosaic of purples, blues, and greens, no doubt similar to the state of Peter’s own stomach, and the sight makes Peter feel like breaking down in tears. 

“I need to shower, like, ten minutes ago. How long are you two going to be hogging the bathroom for?” Harry asks in a light tone, completely ignoring Peter’s shock. 

“Harry!” Peter feels his breath catch in his throat. “Harry, are you okay? I’m sorry, this is all my fault-”

“It’s not your fault.” Harry grins at him, but Peter can’t force himself to smile back. “I’m serious, Peter. Maybe the fridge is what set him off--and holy fuck, dude, I don’t even know how you could have managed to do that--but he was going to get set off by something sooner or later. I argued with him when he tried to go through our things, so if anything, it’s my fault.”

Peter nods, still not convinced that he’s not to blame. “Peni?” The question comes out as a whisper, and both Gwen and Harry’s expressions both soften as Peter stares at them, sheer terror evident on his face. 

“She wasn’t here,” Gwen assures him. “Her dad has visitation today, remember? She was with him, so if you think about it, there’s a silver lining.”

Peter breathes a sigh of relief as Harry chuckles. “Yeah, hell of a silver lining.” 

“I have to go fix the fridge. Shower’s all yours, Harry.” Peter throws his bloody squares of toilet paper in the trash as he heads toward the kitchen. 

On Peter’s way out, Harry pats him on the back. “There’s our little handyman! You’re such a little genius, Peter.”

Peter chuckles and flips him off over his shoulder, and Gwen joins in. “You’re going to fix that fridge so well, Petey-pie! Our little refrigerator-fixer!”

“And refrigerator-breaker,” Harry reminds her as Peter slams the kitchen door. 

\--------------

“Are you coming to the volunteer event this weekend?” 

The final bell had just rung, and Peter flinches when MJ approaches him out of seemingly nowhere while he’s walking to the subway station. 

Peter cringes at the question, remembering the events of yesterday. Strangely, he was completely healed after a mere hour, but the memory was still there. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry. Something came up.” 

The disappointed frown that MJ gives him makes Peter want to scream. “Ned’s going to be disappointed, have you told him yet?” 

Peter picks up his pace, but MJ keeps following him. “No,” Peter answers after a few seconds of silence. “I haven’t.”

MJ doesn’t say anything, but Peter can tell she’s upset with him. She’s probably wondering why she even befriended such a flaky asshole who can’t keep his promises. Honestly, Peter wouldn’t blame her if she decided that she never wanted to see him again.

He said he’d go, and now what? He’s too scared to betray Ross and keep his promise to his friends?

“Are you alright?” The question startles Peter, but he automatically nods in response.

“I’m fine. Why?” 

MJ pauses, trying to choose her words carefully. “You’ve seemed a little bit off for a while. You know that you can talk to us about anything, right? If something isn’t okay, I mean.” 

Sometimes, Peter hates how observant MJ can be. “Everything is fine. In fact, I’m great. I’m having the time of my life right now.” Peter regrets his bitter tone the second the words leave his mouth, but it’s too late to take them back. 

The way MJ’s face falls breaks Peter’s heart. “Okay. Just- I’m here. Ned and I, we both care about you.”

Peter gives her a small smile. “I know. You guys are the best.”

Her expression softens slightly, but it’s so subtle that if Peter didn’t know her so well, he might have missed it.

The moment is ruined when they get to the station. “Well, uh, bye,” Peter blurts out awkwardly, before riding the escalator down to the platform. 

One blissfully uneventful subway ride later, Peter’s on his way to work.

“Hey, Mr. Delmar!” Peter forces a wide smile onto his face as he walks into the bodega, and apparently it’s too wide, because the man looks at him as if he’s grown an extra head. 

“Peter! You’re feeling better? Your brother said that you were pretty sick yesterday.”

Peter frowns when he hears Harry being referred to as his brother, but he doesn’t bother to correct the man. Instead, he steps behind the counter of the bodega, tying an apron around his waist. “Right as rain and ready to work, sir!”

Mr. Delmar just shakes his head, familiar with Peter’s antics. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Work isn’t that bad. Peter actually enjoys the mindless tasks he’s given, and the free sandwiches are definitely worth it. 

Plus, Mr. Delmar has a cat. To be honest, Peter has come to the bodega multiple times for the sole purpose of petting Mr. Delmar’s cat. 

“Murph!” Peter exclaims as he pets the furry creature, who flops over onto his side as soon as he sees Peter coming. “Oh, yeah. There’s my favorite co-worker!”

“Hey,” Mr. Delmar yells from the kitchen. “Words hurt, Peter. Insult me like that again, and you’re fired.”

Peter chuckles, yelling back, “if you fire me, who will pet Murph? You know he likes me more than he likes you.”

“You’ve got me there, kid.” Peter smiles, allowing himself to bask in his rare moment of joy before getting to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback really means a lot to me, so comments literally make my day :) Murph is the best character in the MCU and you can't convince me otherwise.
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com).
> 
> The amazing beta for this fic is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting), and she actually has a new WIP out called [Night Closes In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292744/chapters/71934180)! It's such a great story, I would definitely recommend it.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter screws his eyes shut, trying to drown out the sounds of the city, which are made unbearably loud by his enhanced senses. 

The issue, however, isn’t necessarily the volume. 

Catching the car was a one-time thing. It was a fluke, and Peter just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He had spent hours lost in thought, trying desperately to rationalize why he cannot under any circumstances do anything like that again.

It just isn’t safe.

Peter’s efforts of rationalizing his strategic inactivity are undone in seconds when he hears faint screams coming from a few blocks away.

He can’t even blame himself as he sneaks out of his bed, careful not to wake any of his foster siblings, and grabs the makeshift suit he’d hastily fashioned in anticipation of another event where he’d have to protect his identity.

Now that he thinks about it, maybe he didn’t do such a great job of convincing himself that the car thing won’t happen again.

Not wanting to risk being too loud, Peter elects to use the bathroom window to get out. Yeah, it’s smaller and higher up than the bedroom window that had over time become the designated ‘sneaking out’ window between the three older kids, but his powers mean that Peter can just climb up the wall to reach the window.

Pretty handy, if Peter does say so himself. 

The crisp night air feels amazing on his face, even through his makeshift mask. For some reason that he can’t entirely understand, Peter kind of wishes he could climb a skyscraper and jump off of it without, well, dying.

It sure would make transportation easier, Peter internally complains as he sets off sprinting toward the general direction of the screams. 

He can only hope that he can get there before it’s too late.

Peter skids around a corner and he’s met with a scene that makes him want to claw his eyeballs out. The image of two men, one hastily emptying his pockets while the other holds him at gunpoint, is painfully familiar. 

Peter Parker wants to scream, to run in and help the man before it’s too late, because he doesn’t think he can handle reliving one of the worst events of his life. The event that had caused him to lose his second guardian in the span of a few mere months, leaving him orphaned for a second time.

The other part of him, whatever part emerged on the fateful day of the spider bite, can only see the gun.

His nerves are screaming, and every atom in his being seems to be warning him of the danger that came with the weapon.

Before Peter has a chance to think, he’s up on the wall. He’s climbing toward the pair, terrifying himself with just how spider-like his actions are.

The shadows conceal his slender form until he pounces, lunging at the mugger and knocking the gun out of his hands. Once the man is disarmed, Peter’s nerves seem to calm down, and he’s able to finally process his own thoughts. 

“You really shouldn’t mug people,” Peter says weakly, not really knowing what else to do.

Uncle Ben--no, not Uncle Ben, the stranger standing in front of him--looks between Peter and the mugger in confusion. “What the hell are you?”

Peter stays silent, deciding that answering the question would defeat the whole purpose of the mask, and tightens his grip on the mugger’s arm. “Are you okay, B- sir? Are you hurt?” 

The man shakes his head slowly before turning and running, casting a bewildered glance over his shoulder at Peter as he goes. 

Peter stands in the alley, awkwardly clutching the man, and he comes to the realization that he has no idea what to do with the criminal.

He can’t just take him to a police station, because Peter doesn’t really feel like revealing his identity and being kidnapped and experimented on.

There’s a lot of weird shit on the internet, a lot of which left him terrified.

Maybe he could tie the man up and call the cops? That could work, Peter reasons, but he has to find something to tie him up with.

“I’m going to go look for some rope in that dumpster,” Peter announces, trying to sound more sure of himself than he actually is. “You have to come with me, because I don’t want you to run away.”

The man arches an eyebrow, but Peter just drags him over to the open dumpster. “Holy shit, how are you that strong? Are you a mutant or something?”

Peter’s face heats up under his mask at the question. Instead of answering, he points to the dumpster. “Get in.”

“The… dumpster?” The man chuckles, obviously thinking Peter’s not serious. 

Fed up, Peter grabs the man by the waist and throws him into the dumpster, before hopping in himself. 

“What the fuck?” The mugger groans, and Peter feels a little bit bad. He’s still getting used to his strength, so it’s possible that he threw the man a little too hard. 

“Are you okay?” When the man silently nods, Peter begins his search.

There isn’t really any rope, but there are plastic bags. Peter looks, praying that there would be something better, but it seems like the bags are the best he’s going to get. 

To be honest, it’s kind of his own fault for being so unprepared.

“Okay, we’re going to get out of here, and then I’m going to tie you up with these plastic bags.” Peter winces as soon as the sentence comes out of his mouth. He might as well scream ‘I have no idea what I’m doing.’

Surprisingly, the man complies. “Whatever, just don’t throw me again.” 

Peter nods, leading the man by the arm out of the dumpster and to a clean spot of concrete. 

It takes a lot of bags, but eventually, the man is secure. Well, at least Peter thinks so. There’s really no way for him to be sure.

“Okay, I’m going to go call the cops. I don’t know how long they’ll take, are you hungry? Thirsty? I don’t- would it be cruel to just leave you?”

The man frowns, obviously confused. “I’m fine, itsy bitsy spider-man.”

His tone is mocking, obviously making fun of the way he had acted earlier, but it gives Peter an idea. 

“Oh my god.”

The man’s confusion only grows when Peter sprints away, but the kid can’t bring himself to care. 

That’s it. 

The sun is beginning to rise, and Peter lets out a laugh, basking in the way the cool breeze feels against his face as he runs.

During his spider-research session, Peter had actually ended up learning a lot about spider anatomy, and more specifically, how they make spider webs. 

Spider silk happens to be stronger than any man-made fiber on earth, Peter recalls. What if he could figure out a way to replicate the liquid produced by a spider’s glands? Maybe he can somehow thicken so it can bear more weight.

Peter’s inner geek was freaking out about the sheer possibility that he could even make synthetic spider silk, not to mention the fact that he could actually use it to help people.

“Spider-Man, huh?” Peter chuckles to himself as he sprints back toward Ross’s house, praying that no one has woken up and realized that he’s gone. 

\--------------

Peter feels like crying when Gwen wakes him up for breakfast.

Exhaustion and sleep deprivation weigh on his limbs like boulders, and he wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed.

Unfortunately for Peter, one of the downsides of his enhancement turns out to be an increased metabolism, which means he feels like he hasn’t eaten in weeks after the excitement of last night.

Peter can barely restrain himself from literally inhaling his cereal. His stomach is in such agony that he doesn’t even pause when Ross walks into the kitchen, automatically putting the three other kids on edge. 

“There’s a situation at work,” Ross tells them as he hurriedly gets his things together. “I’ll be sleeping in my office for a few days.”

That gets Peter’s attention.

The kids exchange worried glances. Honestly, Peter’s first assumption is that Ross is tired of the cramped house and is spending a week or two somewhere else, but that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Ross’s panic is way too genuine for it to be a bad cover.

“Fucking Steve Rogers…” Ross mutters under his breath, yet again catching the attention of the kids seated at the kitchen table.

“Steve Rogers? Like, Captain America?” The question leaves Peter’s mouth without his permission, and his face grows red at the realization that he’d accidentally voiced his inner confusion.

Instead of lashing out like Peter had been mentally preparing for him to, Ross nods. “Bastard decides that now is a good time to go and plays buddy-buddy with the Winter Soldier. He says he’s innocent!” The man laughs distractedly as he begins tying his shoes. “After he blew up the UN? I don’t think so. I’m not done with that mutant freak until he’s either in a prison cell or a body bag, I don’t care which.”

The rage embedded in Ross’s tirade put all of the kids on edge, and they each breathed a sigh of relief when the man left the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Is the Winter Soldier even a mutant?” Gwen asks, breaking the silence.

Harry shakes his head, swallowing a mouthful of cheerios. “I don’t think so, Ross is definitely losing it.”

Peter chuckles, willing his weary eyes to stay open. “What are you guys doing today? Ross is gone, we can have some fun.”

Gwen scoffs. “Like you know how to have fun, Parker. What do you have in mind?”

All three pairs of eyes bore into Peter’s skull, and he blushes and looks down at his food. Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, he decides to bite the bullet. “My physics teacher assigned an essay last week so I have a ton of people’s work to do. I was thinking we could go to the library.”

Gwen and Harry both break out into inevitable laughter. “Of course you’d want to go to the library,” Harry scoffs.

“You guys can laugh all you want, this physics teacher’s assignment is making me, like, two hundred dollars.”

The table falls silent. “Two hundred dollars?”

Peter smirks at Harry’s bewildered question. “What can I say? A lot of these rich kids have more money than they know what to do with, and apparently, they really don’t like doing their physics essays.”

Gwen groans. “See, this is why I need my scholarship application approved.”

Peter rests a sympathetic hand on her arm. “So, library?”

“I want to go to the library,” Peni pipes up, grinning at Peter. “The library has books about robots, right?”

Peter grins back. “Probably! If you come with me, you can check out any books you want.” 

Peni practically starts vibrating with excitement, and Peter has to stifle a giggle. “Hey, what can I say? Anything for my favorite foster sister.” He gives Gwen a playful smirk from across the table, and she shakes her head in mock disappointment. 

“Finals start next week, I guess the library’s as good a place as any for a study session. That is, assuming there’s enough room for Peter’s second-favorite foster sister.” 

“There’s room!” Peni exclaims, causing Peter to break out into laughter. 

“I was going to look for a job today, but maybe I can meet you guys after,” Harry says. “Anyway, whenever I go, they just tell me to apply online. Like, why even have a help wanted sign if I have to apply online?”

Peter and Gwen both grimace, familiar with the issue that their foster brother is facing. 

“You’ll find something, Harry.” Peter offers him a reassuring smile. “It's only been, like, two weeks since you lost that Waffle House gig, these things take time.”

“Robots?” Peni asks, obviously growing impatient.

Peter smiles, holding back a yawn. “Sure, Pen. We can go right now.” 

The girl jumps up from her seat and hurriedly puts her dishes away, followed by Peter and Gwen, who are much more sluggish. 

“How does she have that much energy?” Gwen complains as Peter gets his schoolwork together.

Peter shrugs. “She’s a kid, kids are energetic.”

Before they know it, they’re being dragged out the front door by a hyperactive nine-year-old. 

“Hurry up! We’ll miss the books!” Peni’s frantic cries make Peter smile.

“You don’t ‘miss’ books, Peni,” Harry groans. “That’s not how the library works.” 

Still, the group walks as fast as they can to the subway station, in hopes of appeasing the little girl.

Despite his lack of sleep last night, Peter smiles deliriously as the escalator carries them down to the platform. “Are you ready, Peni? It’s almost time to get on the subway,” Peter announces, trying to match Peni’s juvinile excitement. 

“I know, genius. I’m nine, not stupid.” Peni sticks her tongue out at Peter, and he clutches his chest in shock. 

“Harry! You’ve poisoned this sweet child.”

Gwen and Peni both erupt into giggles, and Harry flips him off. “At least I have a personality, asshole.”

Dramatically, Peter claps his hands over Peni’s ears. “Language! Gosh, Harry…”

He’s cut off as Peni squirms out of his grip, doubling over in laughter. 

“You swear in front of her just as much as any of us! Don’t even try-”

“The train!” 

Both boys whirl around to see that their train has arrived, and the group scrambles to get aboard before the doors close. 

Witnessing his foster siblings in a rare moment of joy spurs Peter to make an unexpected offer. “Do you guys want to meet for ice cream when we’re done at the library? I have some extra cash coming in from the essays, I can pay.” 

Gwen and Harry look at him in confusion, but Peni’s eyes light up. 

Seeing Peni’s expression, Gwen sighs and admits, “that sounds pretty fun.” 

“Sure,” Harry concedes. “Sounds good to me.”

They fall into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, until they get to the stop near the library. 

“Good luck, Harry!” Peter exclaims as they leave, patting his foster brother on the back. You got this!” Harry gives him a small smile as Peni drags Peter off of the subway.

“Robots!”

Gwen chuckles, grasping Peni’s little hand in her own. 

Once they actually enter the library, there’s no controlling her.

Peni tears her hand away from Gwens, and sprints excitedly toward the help desk,“Do you have any books about robots? If you don’t, I’m okay with books about rocks, bugs, or birds in that order.” 

Gwen turns to Peter and mouths “bugs?” before hurrying over to where Peni was terrorizing the poor lady at the desk, leaving Peter to find them a table. 

Luckily for them, Peter’s favorite table in the back is available.

He spreads his schoolwork over the table, and is about to get to work when Peni comes bounding over to him with an armful of books. “The nice lady gave me books about robots, rocks, bugs, AND birds! And then she showed me where the kids section is so I can find whatever books I want!”

Gwen smiles, sliding down into the seat next to Peter. “She sure did! Do you want to go there now?”

Peni nods quickly and scurries back the way she came, leaving her pile of books on the table in front of Gwen.

Peter smiles, a warm feeling flooding his chest at the sight of his foster sister’s happiness. 

“She knows there’s a fifteen book limit on library cards here, right?” Gwen asks, eyeing the pile of books in front of her.

Peter scoffs. “We can just use both of our cards. She’s having a good time.”

“Okay, but you’re in charge of making sure she returns them all on time. I’m not paying those fines.” 

Peter nods before going back to his work, making a mental note to slip some books about spiders, chemistry, robotics, and potentially physics into Peni’s stack for himself.

He works for a solid few minutes, but there’s something digging at Peter’s brain, making it impossible for him to concentrate on the essay in front of him. 

“Has Peni seemed weird to you since seeing her dad?”

Peter’s unexpected question causes Gwen to arch an eyebrow. “Not really, has she seemed weird to you?”

“I mean-” He had to take a few seconds to gather his thoughts, because to be honest, there was no logical explanation for his strange feeling. 

He figures it’s just hard to convince himself that not all adults in the world are like Skip or Ross.

“Like, the robot thing,” Peter tries. “Since when does she like robots? You know her dad builds robots, what if he’s making her feel like she has to impress him to be worthy of love?”

Gwen sighs. “Or she just looks up to him, Peter. You know he travels all the way from Japan for visitation, and he’s looking to adopt. Don’t you think he loves her?”

“I guess…”

Peter trails off as the girl in question emerges from the kids section, holding yet another armful of books.

“Hey, Pen?” Gwen pipes up as the stack of books is placed carefully next to the one already on the table. “You wanna sit down for a second?”

Peni furrows her brows in confusion, but slides into the chair across from Gwen. 

“Your dad is nice to you, right? You like him?” Peter freezes at the question.

Peni nods her head slowly. “Yeah? I like my dad.”

“Is that why you wanted robot books?” Peter asks. “Because you want to be like your dad?” 

Gwen and Peter both stare expectantly at Peni, but the girl shrugs. “I just like robots. They’re cool.” 

Peter smiles. “That’s good, baby. You can like whatever you want.”

Gwen looks over at him with a strange expression, but Peter ignores it. 

“Yeah, I know,” Peni states simply. “I also like rocks, bugs, birds, mushrooms, space, dinosaurs, and snails. Oh, and ice cream.” She shoots Peter a sly smile.

Peter chuckles. “We can go in a little bit, Gwen and I still have stuff to do.” 

“You would feel happy if you got to live with your dad, right?” Gwen asks quickly, awkwardly bringing the subject back to Peni. “If he adopted you, you wouldn’t feel scared even if it meant you had to move away to live with him? Even if you guys have to go live in Japan?”

Peni shakes her head. “I’d miss you guys, but…” She trails off, obviously unsure of how to phrase her answer in a way that wouldn’t be hurtful to her foster siblings. 

Gwen smiles kindly at her. “No, Peni, that’s good. We want you to be happy.”

Peni hums in agreement before grabbing the top book from her stack, settling into her chair to read. 

\--------------

“We missed you at the GSA soup kitchen volunteer event last weekend.” 

Ned mentions it casually, but the mention of the soup kitchen makes it feel like Peter’s being consumed by a wave of guilt, leaving him to drown in a flood of unwanted memories. 

“I’m sorry. I was just… busy.” 

“Oh. Well, we’re volunteering there after school for the next three days, maybe you can come to one of those?” Ned tries to act nonchalant, but Peter can see how much it means to him.

For a second, Peter almost says yes. Ross doesn’t control what he does, and so what if he doesn’t approve of this event? Peter shouldn’t let that stop him from helping people. Why should the public image of an asshole in a position of power matter more than his best friend’s happiness?

The more rational side of him thinks that directly disobeying Ross’s order, especially when Ross is so stressed at work, might not be the best idea that Peter’s ever had.

“I can’t, Ned. I’m so sorry, I just can’t. I really wish I could, just…”

Ned nods, and Peter feels terrible.

He’s such a terrible person.

“We should definitely hang out soon, though. I miss you guys so much.”

Ned’s eyebrows furrow like he’s lost in thought before he finally starts, “I mean, I know you don’t have to do GSA stuff just because you’re bi, but it really feels like you’re avoiding it. It’s fine if you are, just- you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?” 

That hits Peter where it hurts. Before he can think of an answer, though, he’s suppressing a flinch as a rough arm is thrown around his shoulders. 

“Penis! How’s that physics essay coming?” Peter tries to pull himself away from Flash’s grip, but the boy’s grip around his shoulders only tightens. 

For a split second, he considers pulling away for real. He could easily throw Flash across the room, and the temptation to do so is strong.

Instead, he takes a breath. “Do you have my thirty-five dollars?” 

“Thirty-five for one essay? Are you kidding me? Best I can do is twenty.” 

Peter tries his best not to let Flash’s cold tone bother him. “It’s thirty-five, Flash,” Peter says in a bored tone. “It was thirty-five last time I wrote an essay for you, and it will be thirty-five next time as well.”

Flash finally lets Peter go, and the boy unconsciously moves his arms to cover the areas that Flash had just touched. “C’mon, friends and family discount?”

“We’re far from friends, Flash. If you’re too broke to pay, just say so.” It hurts Peter to play the ‘poor’ card, seeing how he was doing homework for money, but it never fails to get Flash to pay up.

“Fine,” Flash grumbles, digging through his pockets for the cash, ‘accidentally’ pulling out a hundred dollar bill before handing over the correct amount. “Only because I had to go to academic decathlon practice instead of doing the essay. Luckily for you, my schedule is way too full with rigorous academic opportunities for me to have time to do busywork.” 

“Lucky me,” Peter snorts as he watches Flash walk away. “You know, it’s not easy to write seven essays about the same topic. Does he not understand how difficult it is to change the information enough that it looks like someone else wrote it, but not so much that it’s no longer factually correct?”

“What an asshole,” Ned agrees. “Also, why does he just have a hundred dollars lying around? What could he possibly need that for?”

Peter shrugs. “Drugs?” he offers as a possible explanation, only half-joking. 

Ned chuckles. “That’s probably it.”

\--------------

Peter only feels a little bit bad about breaking into Midtown Tech in the middle of the night.

Yeah, using spare parts to make awesome devices that shoot an even more awesome fluid that he made out of spare chemicals is technically stealing, but Peter doesn’t want to think about it.

Besides, he’s learning. He pays tuition, so technically it’s okay.

Well, he’s on a scholarship, but he got that scholarship fair and square. Plus, Peter figures, Gwen had been cheated out of a scholarship because they never even processed her application the first time around, instead saying that ‘all the scholarships are in use for this school year’ and that ‘her application will be on the top of the pile for next year’s applications.’ 

That’s basically theft, in Peter’s opinion. So that means it’s okay for him to borrow things for his webs and web shooters. 

Considering his actions to be acceptably rationalized, Peter grabs the vials of successful web fluid and the prototypes for the web shooters and slips out of a window, being careful to keep an eye out for cameras on his way out.

With that, like a child on his way to play with a new toy he had just gotten for Christmas, Peter was off. 

To be honest, he was just praying that the webs would have the tensile strength to hold him.

Tentatively, Peter adjusts his mask and shoots a web toward the wall of a nearby building, and he grins wildly where it hits exactly where he’d been aiming for. 

He gives it a sharp tug, and it doesn’t come off.

Perfect. 

Then, he grabs one end in each hand, and pulls as hard as he physically can.

Still nothing. Peter laughs loudly, amazed that his research had actually paid off. 

That’s when Peter has a wild idea. 

Against his better judgement, he shoots one web from each wrist, securing each web to the side of the same building. After taking a cleansing breath, Peter closes his eyes and tugs on each web as hard as he can, and he’s launched into the air. 

It’s the most freeing sensation that Peter’s felt in his entire life. All of his problems are nothing, and there is only him. 

That’s when it occurs to him that he’s falling, diving toward the ground at a bone-breaking velocity.

Without thinking, he shoots a web at another building. Peter waits for it to hit, and transfers his weight, allowing himself to swing. 

If he’d thought going up was a freeing experience, swinging is complete and total liberation from all of life’s problems. 

The wind rushing against his face makes Peter grin, yelling in joy.

He’s free. He’s- it doesn’t even feel like he’s Peter anymore. He’s someone completely different, flying through the air, unafraid of the fact that he could fall to the ground at any moment. 

Suddenly, Peter hears screams coming from a nearby alley.

He quickly changes direction, launching himself in the direction that the screams are coming from. 

“Let’s do this, Spider-Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! Comments and kudos mean the world to me, and I'm so grateful for the response that this has already received. 
> 
> The spectacular beta for this fic is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting).
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com), feel free to come say hi :)


	4. Chapter 4

The recent addition of webs to Peter’s arsenal of party tricks only increases the frequency of Spider-Man’s patrols. 

To his surprise, Spider-Man ends up becoming pretty popular among the public, to the point where people stop him on the street while he’s patrolling and ask if ‘the Spider-Guy from YouTube’ could do a flip. Being somewhat well-known actually works in Peter’s favor, since people know that they can come to him for help. 

Of course, not everyone is ecstatic about the new vigilante. One man in particular, J.J. Jameson from the Daily Bugle, dislikes him especially. Peter knows that not everyone is going to end up liking him, but it still stings to hear the man rant about how Spider-Man is a ‘villian’ and is ‘terrorizing the citizens of New York City.’

It honestly terrifies Peter that the comments will probably get even worse when Ross finally comes home and he’ll have to be selective about when he patrols. 

He doesn’t even want to think about what the man’s reaction would be if he ever caught Peter sneaking out in the middle of the night. 

Peter takes a breath, trying to push the worry away. Ross still isn’t home, and he’d had a pretty good day. He finished the essays, and was now two hundred dollars richer.

Of course, that money would most likely be spent solely on food if Ross didn’t come home soon, but Peter tries not to think about that. There are better things to think about, like how he just aced his algebra test, and how he found a perfectly good DVD player just lying in a dumpster. 

Peter smiles to himself as he walks down the street toward the house, DVD player tucked securely under his arm. Overall, a pretty great day. 

He continues to the house, doing a double take as he notices the fancy car parked outside. It’s so expensive that Peter doesn’t even know what kind of car it is. Maybe it’s the neighbor’s?

Shrugging to himself, Peter opens the front door, plopping his backpack down on the nearest surface and calling, “Gwen! Come check out this insane car outside.”

She doesn’t respond, so Peter figures she must not be home. “Harry? Peni?”

That’s when the thought occurred to him that Ross could be home. What if he has just gotten home from days of hard work and Peter just waltzes into the house, yelling like an idiot? He’s so stupid-”

Peter’s racing thoughts screech to a halt when he hears Gwen clear her throat from the couch. 

He turns to look at her, but when he does, he locks eyes with Tony Stark.

Peter’s heart practically bursts out of his chest. “What are you- what? Gwen?” He looks to Gwen for help, completely overwhelmed. The girl just shrugs, looking to be equally overwhelmed as a wide-eyed Peni clutched her hand, anxious about the strange man in her living room. 

“I’m here about the grant,” Tony announces smoothly, glancing over at Peter. 

Peter’s brows furrow. “The- the grant? Like, the internship?” He tries his best to calm his heart rate, but if Tony is actually there about the internship, it would be a dream come true. 

Tony nods. “Yeah, the September Foundation. I reviewed your application, and you got it! Congratulations.” 

Gwen’s face matches the confusion that Peter feels at that statement. “Grant?” she mouths at him.

There must have been a mistake, Peter figures. His application had ended up in the wrong office, that must be it. “I don’t think I-” 

His protests are cut off with a wink from Tony. “I mean… yes?” Peter’s altered response comes out as a question.

“Awesome,” Tony smiles. “Now, if we could just go to your bedroom or somewhere that we could have a conversation-”

“Does this grant… have money involved?” Peter asks, cutting off the billionaire. 

Maybe if he goes along with the man, he could use the grant money to buy materials for his web formula and stop stealing from his school. Is it still stealing if the money’s being offered to him by a billionaire?

Tony’s eyebrow arches. “Yes, I’d say it’s fairly well-funded. Now, bedroom?” 

Peter nods, about to lead the man to his bedroom when Gwen’s mouth opens in protest. Instead of speaking, however, she beckons him over to her.

“Harry’s asleep in the bedroom,” she whispers in his ear after he complies with her nonverbal request. 

“I’ll kick him out,” Peter responds quietly before turning to lead Tony Stark to his bedroom. 

What is his life?

They walk down the hallway in awkward silence, but Peter’s still stuck on what he should do. Is it wrong to lie and take the money? If he does lie, does that mean he won’t get the internship?

“Okay,” Peter’s voice is shaky as he reaches out for the doorknob. “I just- need a minute to do something really quick.”

The man doesn’t answer, so Peter goes ahead and pushes the door open. He tries to ignore how Tony’s expression subtly changes when he sees Harry sleeping in one of the bunk beds, a Waffle House hat placed strategically over his eyes to block out the sunlight flooding in through the window. 

Peter sighs and turns on the light, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan that the action evokes from Harry. “No, c’mon. Turn it off.” 

Harry shifts, and Peter catches sight of the Waffle House hat. “Oh my god, Harry, did you get your job back?”

“Nope,” he replies in an artificially bright tone, not moving from his position on the bed. “I stole it after that bastard Jeremy fired me for being late. I wanted the one with the squirrel on it, but some shithead took it from my locker while I was getting fired! Can you believe that? The squirrel hat was the only good thing about working in that dump.”

Peter doesn’t respond, praying that Harry would stop talking on his own, but he doesn’t.

“If I ever have to see any of my bitchass coworkers ever again, I’m stabbing them all. It’s not homicide if they deserve it. Fuckers took my squirrel hat, I bet it was Amy...” Harry mutters, turning back over to try and go back to sleep. 

Peter glances over at Tony in horror, clearing his throat loudly and hoping that Harry would take the hint to stop threatening illegal activity. “Harry?”

“What?” Harry asks, before sleepily removing the hat from his eyes, gasping at the sight that he is met with. “Holy shit. I mean- Peter? What the fuck?” 

Peter resists the urge to laugh at his foster brother’s sheer confusion. “I need the bedroom, can you go somewhere else?” 

Harry wordlessly gets up and leaves, giving Tony a weird look on his way out. 

“He’s… quite the character,” Tony comments, glancing around the room. 

Peter can’t help but feel defensive at Tony’s offhand comment. “What can I say? He really values his squirrel hat.”

Tony nods in agreement, but doesn’t say anything.

“So, the grant?” Peter asks, trying not to sound too eager about the prospect of money. If Ross isn’t back soon, there’s no telling how much he’ll have to spend on supplies and utilities, and Harry being unemployed definitely doesn’t help the matter.

Anyway, he needs more supplies for Spider-Man. An upgrade to the suit is definitely in order, maybe he could make it a bit more high-tech, depending on how much the grant is actually for-

“There’s no grant, kid,” Tony chuckles, making Peter’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“Oh,” he says dumbly, not knowing what else to do.

“The real reason why I’m here,” the man says, digging through his jacket pockets for his phone, “is this.” 

Peter stares in horror as he watches himself on the screen, catching a car with a paper bag over his head. 

“That’s you, isn’t it?” Tony asks, although it’s really less of a question and more of a statement.

“That’s not me,” Peter scrambles to explain. “I mean… that’s on YouTube, right? That’s all fake, it’s all video editing and stuff-”

“Wow, look at you go,” Tony comments as he swipes to the next video, which is one of him swinging through the city. 

Peter wrings his hands together, trying to think of a way out of the situation. “That’s great, Mr. Stark, but that’s not me. You have no proof-”

Peter watches in horror as the man feels around on the floor with his feet, seemingly looking for something. Once he finds it, he bends down, picks up a loose floorboard, and pulls out the Spider-Man suit. 

“I- that’s not mine.” 

Tony raises his eyebrows skeptically before turning his attention back to the suit. “This is basically just a sweatsuit, kid. Nothing like your webs, those are pretty cool. Who manufactures them?”

“I do,” Peter huffs, defeated. 

Tony hums, seemingly impressed, before holding the mask up to his face. “Can you even see in these?” he asks as he squints through the darkened eyeholes.

“Yes!” Peter exclaims, lunging to grab the suit. “I can see in those. It’s like-” he takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain his thought process. “I guess it’s like my senses have been dialed to eleven. Just- I can’t focus when there’s too much input.”

“Hence the paper bag,” Tony nods in understanding. 

Peter cringes at the memory. “Well, that was more out of necessity than comfort.” 

“I see, so that time was more of a ‘in the right place at the right time’ thing. But, kid, I gotta know-” the man takes a seat on the edge of Peni’s bed, motioning for Peter to come sit next to him. “Why do you do it? Are you after money or something? Is that it?”

Peter sighs, slumping down on the bed as far away from the man as possible. That’s not something he thought he’d ever have to explain to anyone. “I guess it’s just my responsibility,” Peter tries, pointedly ignoring the comment about money.

Tony nods, but Peter can tell that he doesn’t actually understand, so he continues, “my Uncle Ben used to say that ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ Like, I know he was talking about people in societal positions of power, but when I thought about it, it kind of applies to me here. If you can do the things that I do and you don’t, and then people get hurt, they get hurt because of you.” 

Peter takes a shaky breath, hoping that Mr. Stark understands the point that he’s trying to make. Maybe bringing up Ben wasn’t the best idea. Peter can feel his chest growing tighter by the second. 

“You’re looking out for the little guy,” Tony concludes. 

Peter nods. “Someone has to.” 

“Have you ever been to Germany?” Tony blurts out, stunning Peter. 

Germany? Why would they be going to Germany? Not trusting his voice, Peter shakes his head in response to Tony’s question. 

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Tony promises as he stands up, clapping his hands together. “The Autobahn, all the sausage you could eat-”

“Wait,” Peter cuts the man off. “I can’t go to Germany! I have…” Peter looks around the room, searching for an excuse. “I have homework,” he finishes lamely. 

Tony scoffs. “I’m just going to go ahead and pretend that you didn’t say that. Come on, we only have so much time, Ross gave me three days. Let’s go.” 

Peter panics as Tony makes for the door, and out of instinct, he webs the man’s hand to the doorknob. “You work with Secretary Ross? Like, the Secretary of State?”

Tony slowly nods. “Yeah, kid. I work with a lot of government officials, what’s-”

“You can’t tell him I’m Spider-Man. Or anyone else in the government.” Peter feels his entire body begin to shake. Ross can’t find out, that would be a nightmare.

His grave tone is obviously perplexing to the man. “I mean, if you come with me, we can make sure to keep your identity a secret.”

Peter’s torn.

On one hand, he doesn’t want to go. It’s risky, and stupid, and he doesn’t even know what they’re doing. On the other hand, though, Mr. Stark knows his secret identity. One slip, and it was out. He has to protect himself, no matter the cost. 

“Okay,” Peter agrees, feeling almost as if he’s acting as his own executioner. “I’ll go to Germany with you. Just- don’t tell anybody that I’m… you know.” 

Tony nods. “Alright, now are you going to get this stuff off of me or not?” 

Peter scrambles to find a vial of web solvent, the feeling of dread in his gut only growing. 

\--------------

“I don’t understand.” 

Gwen stares at him, brows furrowed, obviously not believing a word of Peter’s story. 

“I’m sorry! I know it’s super short notice, but I really do have to go,” Peter chokes out. Peni looks up at him from where she’s clinging to his leg, and Peter rubs her back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. “Mr. Stark said I should go to this team bonding retreat, and I think it will be a great opportunity for me to get to know some other interns at SI,” Peter says, repeating the answer that Tony had told him to use.

Harry frowns. “Surely they’re supposed to give you more notice. I mean, who shows up at someone’s house and expects them to be ready to leave in an hour with no warning?”

“I must have missed an email or something.” 

Even Peni arches an eyebrow at that. It’s times like these where Peter curses his inability to lie. 

“Listen.” Peter’s tone grows serious as his hand stills on Peni’s back. “If Ross comes home before I’m back, don’t tell him I’m with Mr. Stark. Just say I’m staying at Ned’s or something.”

Confusion bleeds into Gwen’s expression, but before she can protest, Peter looks into her eyes and continues. “I left some cash in the closet. It’s not that much, but if you guys run out of groceries, use it to pay for my share.”

Gwen nods, obviously still unsure about the situation. “Are you sure you want to go? You don’t seem very enthusiastic.”

“I want to.” Peter forces a smile. “It’s a great opportunity.”

“Alright, have fun,” Harry says in a questioning tone. 

Peter feels tears begin to pool in his eyes as Peni refuses to let go of his leg. Clutching the trash bag containing his clothes and suit, Peter gently pulls her away. “It’s okay, Peni. I’m only going to be gone for a few days.”

“Okay.” Peni’s voice is watery, but she doesn’t try to cling onto him, so Peter counts it as a win.

“I really have to go, Mr. Stark’s driver is waiting for me.” He fights to keep his voice steady as he heads to the door, waving goodbye to Peni as he goes.

Peter’s apprehension only grows as he leaves the relative safety of the house. Peter really isn’t fond of telling someone else his secret identity, but Tony has other things to do.

“Peter?” the man standing outside of the sleek black car asks, eyeing the trash bag full of clothes that he’s carrying. 

Peter nods. “Yeah. And you’re…”

“You can call me Happy.” 

Happy doesn’t seem all that happy. Peter wonders if the nickname is sarcastic. 

Peter slides into the car, and they settle into an uncomfortable silence as Happy pulls out of Ross’s driveway. 

After a few minutes go by and neither of them say a word, Peter caves. “So, Happy. Where does the name come from?” 

Instead of answering, the man rolls up the partition between the front and back seats of the car. 

Peter spends the rest of the car ride staring out the window and rethinking his life decisions. The city is mesmerizing as it flies past him, and before Peter knows it, they’re at an airport in the middle of nowhere. 

Happy opens the door for him, and suddenly, Peter feels bad for the man. It’s not his job to escort teenagers around.

The realization puts a slight damper on his mood, but the second they step outside and Peter sees the plane, all semblance of his happiness crumbles. 

Peter’s about to get into a plane and fly to another country for a reason that he doesn’t really know. Tony said something about Captain America going rogue, which sounds similar to what Ross described at breakfast the day he left. 

He has no details, though.

All Peter can focus on is the plane. The metallic bird that seemed simultaneously way too small and monstrously large, which will most definitely plunge into the ocean and kill him-

“Are you okay, kid?” Peter flinches at the unexpected hand on his shoulder, whirling around to meet Happy’s eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Peter chokes out, trying not to look at the plane. 

Happy doesn’t look impressed. “What is it, is this your first time on a private jet or something? It’s just like a regular plane but you’re there by yourself.” 

“This is my first time on any plane.” Peter cringes at how pitiful his tone is, but to be honest, it’s a struggle just to get his breathing under control enough to choke out an answer. 

Happy clicks his tongue. “Well, time to get going.” 

Suddenly, Peter’s legs are jelly. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, please-”

He doesn’t know what he can say without making himself sound crazy. ‘Please don’t make me get on that thing, I don’t want to end up at the bottom of the ocean with my parents?’ That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that he should say to a complete stranger.

“I just need a second,” Peter assures an impatient Happy, who checks his watch and shakes his head. 

“We need to go.”

Peter sucks a quick breath through his teeth before forcing himself to stumble up the stairs and into the death trap that is the small airplane. 

He feels like screaming as he fastens his seatbelt. Is this how his parents felt before-

Peter’s head shoots up as the engine starts, and a horrendous grating noise starts coming from seemingly everywhere. “Is it supposed to sound like that?” 

Happy rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his newspaper. 

Peter tries his best not to cry when the plane takes off.

\--------------

Peter’s pretty out of it once they actually get to Germany. 

Happy checks them both into a hotel, but as far as Peter can see, they’re the only ones there. Of course, Peter’s never actually stayed in a hotel before, so maybe the people are in their rooms or something. 

He’s not really sure how hotels work.

“What are we doing here?” 

Peter’s surprised by his own question as it comes out of his mouth, so he can’t blame Happy for doing a double take. “What do you mean? You’re here to fight Captain America. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, but why am I fighting Captain America? What did he do that’s so dangerous?” Peter’s whispered question makes Happy groan.

They step into the elevator, and Peter’s palms start to sweat. Being trapped in an enclosed space with an agitated man isn’t exactly his definition of a good time. 

“I’m not authorized to answer that question, but the boss said he’ll come and chat with you tomorrow morning. Ask him.”

Peter nods, breathing a silent sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally slide back open. 

The relief immediately disintegrates when he realizes what’s happening. 

He’s in a hotel building with a stranger. How do hotels even work? Is it normal for strangers to share a hotel room?

Peter feels himself break into a cold sweat at that thought. Would he be expected to share a bedroom with Happy? Hotel rooms seem expensive, so it’s totally possible that they’re together to cut the cost-

“Here we are,” Happy announces coldly.

A wave of relief crashes over Peter when he realizes that Happy’s handing him his own room key. “We’re neighbors!” Peter exclaims, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. 

Happy’s eyebrow raises. “We’re sure as hell not roommates.”

Without another word, Happy enters his room, leaving Peter in the hallway by himself. 

He stands there for a few seconds before finally letting himself into the room. 

Peter’s jaw drops as he takes in the sheer size of the room. It’s probably at least three times the size of the bedroom he shares with his foster siblings. 

Making a mental note to tell Gwen about the ridiculous size of everything, Peter flops down onto the oversized bed. Hell, he and his three foster siblings could probably share the hotel room comfortably. 

Peter understands that Tony Stark is a billionaire, but it doesn’t stop him from wondering why he got an entire room to himself. 

Not that he wants to share with Happy, of course. Just the idea of being that close to the man while unconscious makes phantom hands rub up and down Peter’s body, which makes him feel like clawing his own skin off.

‘What’s wrong, Einstein? I thought you liked games.’

Peter shoots up, unable to stay on the bed anymore. He tries to assure himself that it’s okay, that Happy would never do anything like that, but he can’t get the horrible voice inside his head to shut up once it starts talking.

He needs a distraction. Anything to think about that isn’t the man next door.

Peter pulls his phone out of his pocket, and is relieved to see that the hotel has WiFi. Immediately going to google, he types the keywords ‘Ross Captain America Winter Soldier,’ piecing together the bits of information that he knew about the situation. 

If Happy can’t tell him what’s going on, he’ll just figure it out himself. 

He’s horrified with what he sees. The first link goes directly to an article about the Sokovia Accords, which apparently, would force Peter to reveal his identity. 

He tries to read further, but he’s shaking so hard that he can’t.

He can’t reveal his identity. Ross would either make him stop or try to arrest him, and Peter can’t decide which is worse. 

Peter feels his head start to spin, and he automatically goes to his contacts and presses the one that reads ‘Gwen,’ holding his phone up to his ear and letting out a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. 

Please pick up, please pick up-

“Peter?” 

Gwen picks up after the fourth ring, and Peter has to blink away tears of relief. “Gwen. I’m sorry, I just-”

Peter takes another breath to calm himself. “Are you okay? You sound-”

“-like shit,” Peter finishes for her, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I know. I’m just kind of freaking out. I don’t know if coming here was a good decision.”

“Are you in danger?” 

Peter startles at the sheer panic embedded in Gwen’s question. “No, I’m fine. Just… having some second thoughts. How are things at home?”

“As good as they ever are.” Gwen’s answer is short, but Peter can hear the smile in her voice. 

“How’s Peni dealing with her favorite foster brother being gone?” Peter asks, smiling at his own joke. 

Gwen snorts. “I don’t know, she’s growing pretty fond of Harry…”

“Lies!” Peter exclaims. “Can I talk to her? I need to make sure my spot as favorite brother is secured.”

The pause on Gwen’s end only fills Peter with more anxiety.

“She’s at a meeting with the social worker,” Gwen finally says, doing little to put Peter at ease.

“What? There wasn’t anything scheduled for today, was there?” 

“No,” Gwen assures him, familiar with how much Peter hates forgetting things. “I don’t know what’s going on.” 

Peter nods, silently trying to figure out an explanation.

“Anyway,” she continues, “Is everything okay over there? Do you need anything from me?”

“No, I’m fine.” The words are firm, but it’s clear to both of them that he’s trying to convince himself they’re true just as much as he’s trying to convince Gwen. “I just wanted to check in, say hi and stuff.”

“Isn’t it the middle of the night there?” Gwen suddenly asks in an accusing tone.

When Peter looks over to check the clock on the nightstand, he sees that Gwen is right. “Huh, I guess it is.” 

“Idiot,” she says fondly. “Go to sleep.” 

She hangs up, and Peter tries to comply with her request, he really does. 

He just can’t tear his attention away from the sound of Happy’s even breathing from the other room, putting him on-edge and making him wait for something that’s never going to come.

“Skip’s gone. He’s never coming back.” He whispers the shaky affirmation that he’s told himself way too many times since that part of his life, rolling over in the uncomfortably soft bed and trying his best to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)
> 
> The spectacular beta of this story is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting)!
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for physical abuse of a minor

Peter jerks awake at the sound of someone knocking on his door. 

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Peter rolls out of bed, expecting his visitor to be Happy telling him that it’s time to go.

Instead, when he opens the door, Peter’s met with the sight of Tony Stark leaning against the doorframe. 

“Morning, kid. We’re heading out in a little bit, so I figured that now’s as good a time as any for us to have a chat.”

Peter immediately regrets the fact that he lacked the foresight to change out of his wrinkled t-shirt and sweats before opening the door.

Disregarding Peter’s obvious apprehension, Tony pushes past him and takes a seat on the end of his bed. “I did some digging.” 

Peter stares blankly at the man, digging around in his brain for any potential secrets he could be keeping from the man.

“How was I not aware that Ross is your foster parent?” The man’s question sounds strangely accusing.

Peter’s brows furrow at the man’s surprise. Yeah, he didn’t tell Mr. Stark what his relationship to Ross is outright, but Peter didn’t think it was that important. 

To be honest, he’s more concerned about the fact that the billionaire had evidently researched him.

Peter studies the man’s face, trying to figure out what he found. Is his forced smile a product of reading about how he was orphaned twice, or is he thinking about the bullshit records from Peter’s first group home that painted him as some kind of hardened thug?

“It’s not an issue or anything. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“What?” Peter can’t keep the question from slipping out, but what the fuck? Why would he be relieved?”

“I mean,” the man starts, searching for the right words to say. “Happy was saying you don’t seem too sure about the Accords. I figured, since Ross is pushing them so hard, it’s only natural that you’d agree, right?” 

Peter blinks in confusion. “Ross is pushing the accords? I mean, I knew he was working on that kind of stuff, but he has a big role in this specifically?” 

“A big role,” Tony snorts in amusement. “Kid, he’s the one who gave me three days to arrest Captain America.” 

Peter’s stomach drops. Maybe he’s just holding a grudge against the man, but for some reason, the fact that Ross is behind whatever’s going on makes him skeptical that they’re on the right side. “This is all because Secretary Ross says you have to arrest Captain America?”

Tony frowns. “I mean, he’s harboring a terrorist. Yeah, the time constraint isn’t that great, but I want to get this over with just as much as anyone else.”

Peter files the terrorist comment away for later. If the Winter Soldier is actually a terrorist, why would Captain America think he’s not? 

“What are the accords?” he finds himself asking instead of the terrorist question, which he’s still turning over in his head. 

Tony takes a deep breath before answering, “I mean, it’s complicated. Basically, it’s a way for the Avengers to be held accountable for the collateral damage we cause.”

“That’s not what I read online.” Peter winces at his own accusing tone, but continues anyway. “Is there really a clause that says all enhanced individuals will have to be registered with the government?”

Tony’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I mean, yeah. Again, it’s for the sake of the public.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Peter wants nothing more than to just agree, and go about their business. Whatever it takes to stay on the man’s good side. After all, Tony is his only way back home.

He just can’t avoid the dread pooling in his gut, and the way his entire being seems to scream that what’s happening isn’t right. 

“There are plenty of harmless enhanced people. Do you have a way of protecting us from persecution?”

Tony visibly winces at Peter’s use of the word ‘us.’ “Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good-”

“They’re not your sacrifices to make!” Peter exclaims, surprising himself yet again. “This- you don’t understand. This could ruin my life, along with the lives of countless others!”

“Don’t be so selfish. There are dead people that would still be alive if these accords had been in place sooner.” The tension in the room only grows with Tony’s response, and Peter feels like he’s about to cry.

“How many people that are alive now will be dead when the Accords are in place?” Peter’s whispered question makes Tony’s face grow even redder, and he shrinks away from the man. 

“Barnes bombed the United Nations,” the man exclaims. “My friends could have died! Don’t you at least see why he has to be stopped, regardless of your stance on the accords?”

Peter pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Did you ask Captain America why he thinks the Winter Soldier’s innocent? He must have probable cause if he’s going to such lengths-”

“Ross says he’s guilty! There’s even talk of waiving Barnes’ trial and putting him straight into the Raft because he’s so dangerous. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Peter shakes his head, unwilling to voice his reasoning for why that was most definitely not enough for him. 

What’s he supposed to say? ‘Ross is an asshole who will do anything and use anyone to help himself get ahead, so it’s not unlikely that he’s acting out of his own self-interest’? 

“This… doesn’t seem so black and white,” Peter tries nervously, regarding the man’s angry expression with caution. “I don’t know for sure that you’re wrong, but I don’t know for sure that you’re right, either.”

“I am right,” Tony assures him. “Why would I put so much on the line if I didn’t know that I’m right about this?”

Peter has to hold back his urge to roll his eyes at the man’s sheer arrogance. “Captain America could say the exact same thing.”

“He’s wrong!” Tony exclaims. “He just thinks he’s right. That’s what makes him so dangerous.”

“Aren’t you equally dangerous?” The question is shaky, but once Peter starts talking, he can’t stop himself. “I don’t know enough about this to get involved. You tell me that you’re right, but how do I know for sure? You’re acting like this is simple, but the only thing that’s actually clear is the fact that this situation is extremely unclear.”

“Come on, kid,” Tony sighs. “You can’t just trust me here?” 

Peter slowly shakes his head. 

The thing is, if it were just Mr. Stark, he might be able to. However, the fact that Ross is pushing so hard in Tony’s favor is a red flag that Peter can’t bring himself to ignore. 

The man pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. “You’re being serious? You come all the way out here just to tell me at the last second that you’re backing out?”

Guilt pumps through Peter’s body at the accusation, but it’s not enough to get him to change his mind. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Last call. Fight with the best of the best, help me out, and kick some supersoldier ass, or sit here alone in the hotel room until it’s time to go home.”

“Hotel room,” Peter whispers.

Tony’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t push anymore. “Okay, kid. Have a nice life, Happy will take you home later.”

Peter nods in acknowledgement as the man leaves the hotel room, in a drastically worse mood than when he came.

He doesn’t exactly regret his decision, but during the long hours that he’s waiting for Happy to come and take him home, Peter can’t help but wonder if he’d made the wrong choice. 

\--------------

Peter doesn’t even try to make conversation with Happy on the ride back. The man is typing frantically on his phone the entire time, and Peter isn’t sure if it’s because Colonial Rhodes might be dead or because Captain America got away.

Of course, he has no idea if his presence would have changed that outcome, but the ‘what if’ hanging over both of their heads does nothing to make the jet ride back any less awkward.

Peter can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when the car finally pulls up in front of his house. After that experience, he’s not sure that he’ll ever get on a plane again.

“Thanks for the ride,” Peter mutters awkwardly as he steps out of the car, legs shaky from the long journey.

Happy ignores him and drives away the second the door is closed, and honestly, Peter can’t blame him. 

At least he can finally go home and put the whole fiasco behind him. Peter just hopes that Captain America’s escape was enough to keep Ross from getting home before him. 

Peter carefully opens the door, trash bag full of his belongings slung over his shoulder. “Gwen?” he whispers, not wanting to alert Ross to his presence if the man is actually home. 

He shuts the door behind himself, carefully pulling it closed so it doesn’t make a sound. Peter’s eyes dart around the small house, looking for his foster siblings, but nobody’s there.

“Harry?” Peter allows his voice to grow a little bit louder as he slowly walks through the house, stopping in his tracks when he sees an unfamiliar figure peering up at him from the couch. The boy looks a few years younger than him and Gwen, so maybe he’s one of Gwen’s friends from school?

“Who the fuck are you?” 

The question comes out harsher than Peter intends, and the boy’s eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “I- I’m Miles,” he chokes out.

Peter frowns. “What are you doing here? Are you friends with Gwen?”

Miles shakes his head. “My social worker brought me here this morning. A spot opened up, so-”

“You’re a foster kid?” Peter’s too busy worrying about the implications of Miles’s statement. A spot opened up? That can’t be right, none of the kids are supposed to leave, unless-

Peter’s jaw drops in horror. “That was my spot. I- I’m right here!”

Miles opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. 

“We have to call your social worker! I mean, there’s just not enough room-” Peter cuts himself off when he realizes what he’s saying. Miles already moved in, it was Peter’s fault for being gone for so long. He can’t just kick the poor kid to the curb.

“Peter?” 

The sound of Gwen’s voice makes him breathe an involuntary sigh of relief. “Gwen! I- Ross gave my spot away? What’s going on?” 

Gwen’s brows furrow in confusion. “Peter…” she starts slowly, eyes darting between Peter and Miles. “He’s not replacing you, he’s replacing Peni.”

Peter’s stomach drops. “What happened to Peni?” he whispers, fearing the worst. 

“Calm down! She’s fine, her dad got custody.”

Relief washes over Peter. “Oh! That’s amazing.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After a few seconds of silence, Peter voices the question that’s nagging him. “Was she… upset that I wasn’t here to say goodbye to her?” 

Gwen shoots him a sympathetic glance. “She’ll be okay.”

Peter smiles, but before he can respond, Miles cuts in.

“I’m sorry.”

Peter frowns, glancing over at Gwen to see if she knows what Miles is talking about, but she’s equally clueless. 

“About taking this girl’s--Peni’s--spot here. I really didn’t mean to do anything wrong, I just- I’m not familiar with how these things work,” Miles clarifies. 

Peter’s mouth flies open, horrified that he could have caused this poor boy to feel like he’s done something wrong. “No! She’s fine, it’s good that she’s with her dad now, it was just a shock to find out like this. You’re good.”

Peter’s heart almost bursts at the way that Miles visibly deflates at the affirmation that he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“This is his first foster home,” Gwen explains gently. “Miles, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” Miles nods. He doesn’t offer any more information about why he was in the system, but Peter immediately feels terrible. It’s more than likely that he’d recently been through something traumatic, and he had just yelled at the poor kid for something he couldn’t control. 

Peter smiles, desperate to assure the boy that everything’s okay. “I hope you’re a heavy sleeper, Harry snores like a fucking foghorn.”

The tension in the air dissolves as the trio breaks down in laughter, not noticing when the boy in question walks through the front door with an armful of groceries. “What’s so funny?”

The confusion on his foster brother’s face only makes Peter laugh louder as he replies, “the fact that sleeping in the bunk above you makes it feel like there’s a literal earthquake.”

It takes Harry a few seconds to register what Peter’s talking about, but when he finally does, he chuckles. “I don’t even snore that loud, asshole. At least I didn’t break the fucking refridgerator.”

The reminder of that event makes Peter’s stomach sink, but Gwen’s giggles only become more violent as Miles asks, “the refrigerator?” in an amused tone.

“That was one time! I fixed it, too, so Ross didn’t even care that much.”

Peter’s exclamation immediately makes Harry and Gwen freeze in place. “Fuck, Peter…” Gwen starts, a gentle expression on her face.

“Ross is pissed at you,” Harry states pointedly as he puts the groceries away.

Peter feels his stomach fill with dread. “He came back?”

Gwen chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, he had to be here for Peni’s social worker.”

“I guess she’s one of the ones that he hasn’t bribed yet,” Harry deadpans from the kitchen.

Peter’s about to make another joke, but when he takes notice of the fear in Miles's expression, he softens. “It’s fine, not a big deal.”

Gwen quirks her brow, about to respond when she catches sight of Miles and suddenly understands why Peter was trying to underplay his fear of Ross. “Yeah, you’ll be fine.” Her assurance is directed at Peter, but they both know it’s more for Miles. 

Beneath his calm facade, Peter’s freaking out. Ross is probably already pissed about Captain America, so this isn’t going to be fun for him. “Is he home now?” 

Gwen shakes her head, filling Peter with relief. “He had to figure some stuff out at work, apparently Captain America did something.”

“He’ll be home tonight,” Harry warns him, placing a gentle hand on Peter’s arm. “We said you were at Ned’s, try to play along with that.”

Peter nods, immensely grateful for Harry and Gwen. He seriously doesn’t know what he would do without them. 

“Do you want some cereal?” Peter’s question is sudden, and Miles’s brows furrow in confusion. “You said you got here this morning, and I know social workers can overlook food sometimes. If you’re hungry, I can get you some cereal.”

Honestly, Peter doesn’t know why he’s offering, especially when asking someone else to make cereal isn’t normal. He supposes he’s been spending too much time with Peni. 

Miles’s small nod surprises Peter, and makes him break out into a smile. “Okay, we have off brand cheerios, is that okay?”

Miles nods again, apparently slightly bewildered at the fact that Peter was actually going to prepare cereal for him. 

Noticing the boy’s confusion, Gwen smiles. “Peter’s a master cereal-maker. He used to do it all the time for our foster sister Peni.”

“I’m not just a master, I’m the best in the world. A grandmaster, if you will,” Peter calls from the kitchen, putting his skills to the test. 

When he’s finished, he carries the bowl to the kitchen carefully, praying that Ross wouldn’t come home early. He’d freak out if he saw anyone eating on the couch.

Miles takes a bite, and the rest of the kids stare at him expectantly. 

“It’s good cereal,” he concedes, and Peter stands up and takes a dramatic bow.

“Another job well done,” Gwen praises. “Hey, whose day is it to make dinner? It’s probably not a great idea to be late with that when Ross is already upset.”

Harry bolts up from where he’d been sitting. “Shit, I think I’m supposed to.”

“There’s no way he’s going to finish in time,” Gwen comments, getting up to help Harry, who is frantically making spaghetti. 

Peter cringes. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I could help…” he offers, even though he feels like he could fall asleep at any second. 

Gwen waives off his offer. “Peter, go rest. You’re probably exhausted, and no offense, but I don’t think you’d help the situation at all.”

Peter flips her off as she goes to help Harry, chuckling at her own joke. 

“You don’t have to sit here awkwardly, you can come settle into the bedroom. I seriously don’t mind,” Peter informs Miles when he sees that he’s sitting on the couch, stiff as a board. 

Miles’s expression morphs into one of relief as he wordlessly follows Peter to the bedroom. 

“This one’s yours,” Peter tells him, pointing at the bottom bunk that Peni had slept in. “I don’t know if the others have told you that already.”

“They have,” Miles tells him. 

The room falls silent, and Peter is about to crawl into bed when Miles opens his mouth, obviously wanting to ask a question. “What is it?”

“What’s the deal with Ross? He left for work right after I got here, and none of the others have said anything about him.”

The question catches Peter off guard, but it’s one that he should have expected. Of course a scared kid who had no experience with the foster system would be concerned when he sees his new foster siblings treat their guardian like an active bomb.

“He… works a lot,” Peter starts, trying to figure out how to describe the man in a way that wouldn’t be alarming to the boy. “He’s a foster parent because he got in some hot water a while ago and his publicist thought that playing the part of an ‘all-American dad’ would improve his image.”

Miles nods before asking a question that makes Peter feel like he’s been shot. “What should I do? Like, what’s a good strategy to stay on his good side or… I don’t know.” 

No matter how hard he tries to hide it, it’s obvious that Miles is afraid. Every word in his question is dripping with sheer terror, and the way the boy’s voice quivers when he asks it makes Peter want to scoop him up and take him far away from Ross. 

Instead, Peter asks his own question. “Do you know how long you’re going to be here? Until you age out, or do you have anyone that…” he trails off, unable to figure out a way to end that sentence without potentially upsetting Miles.

Luckily for Peter, Miles just nods. “Yeah, hopefully just a week or two, maybe longer.”

Peter looks at him, unsure if he should push or not, but Miles takes it as a sign to keep going. “I’ve been staying with my uncle since my parents… you know.”

Unfortunately for him, Peter knew all too well.

Oblivious to the emotion that his sentence had stirred in Peter, Miles continues. “Anyway, someone he used to work with filed a bullshit complaint with CPS, and they came in for a surprise inspection, so here I am.”

Peter frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how hard it is to be apart from that kind of role model, especially when you’re still recovering from such a big loss.”

“It’s okay, he can get me back pretty easily. He said he has to clean up the apartment and take some parenting classes, but after that I can go home.” Miles runs his hand through his hair self-consciously, anxiety practically rolling off of him in waves.

“It sounds like it will be fine, Miles. From what you’ve said, your uncle seems like a good guy.”

Miles nods, and Peter remembers that he’s supposed to be giving advice. “About Ross, I’d say that you should just try to avoid him, since you won’t be here long. Just don’t bother him, and he shouldn’t bother you, like a bee.”

Peter’s response is obviously jarring to the boy. “What bothers him?”

Peter winces at the fear in his voice. So much for keeping things light. “Just, I don’t know, general things. Clean up after yourself, call him Secretary Ross to his face, don’t be loud when he’s home.”

For a second, he wonders if he should warn Miles about only eating his share of the food, but he quickly decides not to. Ross hadn’t gotten worked up about that in a while, and if Miles is only going to be there for a week, it shouldn’t come up. There’s no reason to worry him.

Sensing that Miles’s unease is only growing, Peter changes the subject. “What’s your uncle like?”

He knows he’s made the right decision when Miles’s face absolutely lights up. “Uncle Aaron. He’s great, we’ve been close since I was little. He’s just- for my entire life, he’s looked at me like I’m the best thing in the world.”

Peter nods, smiling at the mental image.

“He’s an artist,” Miles continues. “He’s the reason that I love art. He’s just so passionate about it, and it's impossible not to fall in love with it when you grow up around someone like that.”

“You miss him,” Peter states the obvious, only making himself sadder.

Miles nods. “Yeah. You’re right, him being gone just makes me miss them more, too.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds, until Peter hears the telltale sound of the front door slamming open, accompanied by the banging of heavy footsteps. 

“Fuck, Miles, we have to go.” 

Peter and Miles head to the kitchen as fast as they can without running, and help set the table. 

When Ross sits down at the table, the tension is so thick that it feels like they’re all drowning.

“Thank you for the spaghetti, Harry,” Peter says in a mild tone, glancing at Ross to make sure that he wasn’t doing something wrong. “It looks really good.”

Harry nods in response, placing the pot in the middle of the table and grabbing a serving. 

“We’re going to church tomorrow,” Ross announces, startling all four kids. “The situation at work has me under a lot of scrutiny, so we’re going to be seen together, in public, worshipping as a family.”

Peter, Harry, and Gwen glance at each other, familiar with the routine. Nobody says anything, and they go back to eating in silence. 

In the past, Peter would have called the man out, and made it known that he thought using religion solely to better one’s public image is disgusting.

Over time, Ross’s go-to image cleanser became routine, and Peter had learned pretty quickly to shut up and do what the man says. 

“So,” Ross starts in a sickeningly pleasant tone, seemingly tired of the relative peace that the silence brought. “Where have you been, Peter?”

Peter gulps, almost choking on his pasta. “I- Ned’s, sir.” 

The man’s eyes narrow dangerously. “And you thought you could go without asking my permission?”

Peter stares at the man, searching desperately for something to say that won’t incriminate himself. 

Before he can get any words out, Ross snorts out a laugh. “Not only that, but instead of apologizing to me, you decide to eat fucking spaghetti?”

Peter has to hold himself back from arguing with the man. It was dinner time, he was going to apologize after. 

Instead, he hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Secretary Ross.” 

The man smiles. “I think you should go to my room and wait for me to finish my dinner, don’t you? We’ll have a chat once I’m done here.”

The air at the kitchen table seems to somehow get colder as Peter wordlessly stands up. Gwen gently brushes his arm with her hand, and Peter places his hand atop hers, squeezing lightly. He shoots Miles a small smile, trying to dispel some of the fear that had made its way back into his expression. 

“Now,” Ross barks.

Peter pulls away from Gwen’s gentle grip, and walks toward Ross’s bedroom, dread making his limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 

If Peter ignores all of his negative memories of Ross’s bedroom, he can see that it’s actually pretty nice. It’s larger than the bedroom the kids share, and it has a bathroom.

To be honest, the private bathroom is what Peter’s most jealous about.

He also has a desk for his work, and his bed is almost as large as the one he’d slept on in the hotel. Not that he’d ever actually consider touching anything without permission, or even try to voice his thoughts about how unfair it is that they’re forced into such a tight space when it’s completely unnecessary.

There’s no use making things worse for himself. 

Peter can’t help tensing up when he hears the door open behind him. He twirls around to meet Ross’s eyes, suppressing a flinch at the sheer hate behind his glare.

The familiar sound of the man sliding his belt out from his belt loops sends a shiver down Peter’s spine. 

“You know what to do.” 

Peter automatically lays over the bed before his mind can catch up with his body, gripping the blankets for dear life. He flinches as Ross’s cold hand rests on his lower back, and has to suppress a whimper when the man pushes his t-shirt up to his shoulders, the soft touch running up his back bringing forth countless unwanted memories of gentle caresses and whispered words. 

“Remember,” Ross’s cold voice cuts through Peter’s dread-filled mind like a knife through hot butter. “This is for your own good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to crucify Ross, the comment section is open.
> 
> In all seriousness, thank you so much for reading. This fic deals with pretty hard topics, so if you have any issues with how something is being portrayed or any suggestions to make the story more realistic please don't hesitate to let me know. 
> 
> The wonderful beta of this story is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting)!
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for implied/referenced sexual abuse of a minor, vague/brief homophobia

No one says anything when Peter finally limps across the hall to the bedroom, wincing with each step. 

Miles does gasp audibly when Peter absentmindedly pulls his bloodstained t-shirt over his head, but a jab from Gwen’s elbow silences him before he can ask any questions. 

Peter hastily puts on a clean shirt when he senses Miles’s unease. “So, church tomorrow,” he says, attempting to break the awkward silence. 

Harry snorts. “Praise the lord.”

“You guys only go when Ross wants to boost his public image?” Miles asks, frowning in disgust. “That’s kind of… immoral, don’t you think?”

“Kid,” Harry turns to look at him. “He’d do anything if it meant good publicity, blasphemy isn’t the worst of it.”

Gwen snorts at Harry’s statement, even though they all knew that what he’s saying is accurate. “It’s not so bad, really. Just don’t make a scene or anything, you’ll be fine.”

Miles nods, and Peter internally groans at the realization that he has to wake up early. “I have to go out.”

All three kids look at Peter like he’s crazy. “Are you sure?”

To be completely honest, Peter wants nothing more than to curl up in bed, beg Gwen to let him turn the lights off even though it’s way too early for bed, and sleep. He’s exhausted from the plane ride, and his back is on fire.

He needs to patrol. The guilt stemming from his own inactivity feels like it’s tearing him up from the inside out. How many people died while he was sitting uselessly in that hotel room?

“I’m vetoing that.”

Gwen’s statement is firm, and she cuts him off with a glare when Peter opens his mouth to argue. “You need to rest. I don’t know what you think you have to do, but it can wait until you’re not a literal zombie.”

“She’s right,” Harry adds, making Peter’s cheeks heat up.

He’s about to protest, but he can’t bring himself to. “Fine. Can I turn the light off?”

Gwen smirks. “Absolutely.”

\--------------

The ease with which Ross changed into a whole new person is honestly terrifying.

It’s hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that the man who is smiling, greeting churchgoers, and making pleasant conversation is the reason that sitting in the wooden pews is unbearable. 

His back has gotten a little bit better, but Peter figures that he’s gotten pretty spoiled with how quickly his enhancement usually allows him to heal. With how exhausted he’s been lately, it’s evidently been hard for his body to keep up.

Well, at least he has motivation to try not to patrol too late anymore. Enhanced healing is a gift that Peter has become quite partial to over time. 

“Sit up straight!” Ross firmly nudges Peter, tearing him from his thoughts.

He mumbles an apology before complying, and he has to hold back a smirk when he catches Harry’s quick eye roll. 

“Secretary Ross!” A young man exclaims as he slides into the pew in front of them.”It’s a surprise to see you here! How are you holding up with everything that’s been going on?”

Ross smiles, clapping Miles on the back. “Oh, you know. I am busy at the office, of course, but I’m also feeling a lot of regret, and I’m worried about what the future may hold. I figured, is there any choice but to worship in the house of the Lord before going back to work, trying to pick up the pieces that these freaks have left me with?”

The man in front of them shakes his head solemnly. “No choice at all, sir. It’s great to see you here, I’d like to personally thank you for all the work you’ve been doing to keep our country safe. God bless you.”

Peter makes eye contact with Gwen and has to suppress a snort as Ross shakes the man’s hand. 

He breathes a silent sigh of relief when the service finally starts, because it means that Ross will finally shut up.

Peter’s pretty familiar with the drill at this point. Sit up, stay awake, and pretend to pay attention until it’s time to go home. All things considered, there are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning. 

The morning is going well, the soothing tones of the preacher actually managing to keep Peter somewhat sane while Ross smiles at strangers from the seat next to him. 

The peace quickly disintegrates as a fiery sensation burns down his spine, causing Peter to let out a silent gasp and double over in his seat.

His brain is screaming at him to get out of the church, to evade the danger, but Peter can’t figure out why. 

Even Ross’s sharp elbow jab, which is agonizing on his already-raw back, isn’t enough to stop Peter’s mind from racing. He wants to write it off, but the overwhelming dread that something terrible is about to happen is honestly terrifying. 

He calms down enough to hear the preacher’s next announcement, but once he hears it, he almost wishes he was still oblivious to the cause of his own terror. 

“Our next speaker has been away from our church family while studying on the west coast, but he’s home for the summer! I’d like to welcome my son Steven Westcott back into our community.” 

The man steps off of the podium and his son takes his place, reciting a bible verse that Peter can’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears.

Peter never thought he’d have to see the man again. It’s hard to convince himself that it’s actually happening, but the longer he stares at Skip, the harder it is to play him off as a figment of his imagination. 

Just when Peter thinks the situation can’t possibly get worse, he accidentally catches Skip’s eye.

The sheer glee present on the man’s face as he recognizes Peter is enough to make the boy nauseous. 

The service goes on, but Peter can’t relax. Skip seems to think it’s necessary to stare at Peter for the entirety of his sermon, as if he’s preaching directly to him, and Peter can practically feel the feather-light touches of his hands running up and down his body.

He can’t do this again. He just can’t, he has to-

“Peter!” 

Peter jumps as Ross hisses his name between gritted teeth, and he’s surprised to see that the service ended while he was lost in his thoughts. 

The man leaves, presumably to mingle with the crowd in the hallway, and Gwen shoots him a concerned glance. 

He waves her off, praying that Ross won’t get too angry when he sneaks off to wait in the car for the man to finish his meet and greet session, when a rough hand grabs his shoulder. 

“Who’s the pretty lady, Einstein?” 

Skip’s voice had been like nails on a chalkboard when Peter heard it from a distance, but the gentle whisper in his ear is infinitely worse. He tries to pull away, but the hand stays, aggravating his bruised back.

“My foster sister, Gwen,” Peter chokes out, trying desperately to keep his discomfort out of his expression. “Gwen, this is my… old friend, Sk- Steven.”

The man chuckles lightly, the sound making Peter want to rip his own ears off. “So formal, Peter. Please, Skip is fine.” 

Gwen raises a questioning eyebrow before shaking the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’d better get going, our foster father wanted us to go straight to the car,” Peter announces, praying that Gwen will go along with it.

Skip shoots the kids a charming smile, and Peter feels like he’s going to vomit. “Nonsense, I’ll walk you out. I’d hate for you two to get in trouble because of me, I’m sure he’ll understand.” 

It’s fairly easy for the trio to find Ross, and the man’s face has never brought Peter more relief. “Sorry we got held up, sir,” Peter apologizes, anxious to get out as soon as possible. “I’m not feeling well, so I was just going to wait in the car-”

“Mr. Westcott,” Ross exclaims, ignoring Peter. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Mister…”

“Secretary Ross,” Ross informs him with a tight smile. “I’m actually Peter and Gwen’s foster father at the moment. Have they been giving you any trouble?” 

Skip chuckles, and the sound makes Peter feel like he’s eleven again, crying to his babysitter because he wants to stop playing the special games that he’s not allowed to tell his aunt and uncle about. “Oh, not at all. In fact, Peter and I go way back. We were just catching up.”

Ross smiles at Peter, sending a shiver down his spine. “Really? I never would have thought that he’d affiliate himself with such an upstanding young man as yourself. He’s quite the handful, you know.”

Peter blushes, wishing that the conversation would just end. He just wants to go home, talking to Ross and Skip at the same time is enough to make him want to scream.

“Oh, teenagers.” Skip gives Ross a sympathetic smile, before his eyes light up dangerously. 

Peter’s far too familiar with that expression, and he knows that nothing good ever comes from it. 

“Say,” Skip starts. “Einstein, do you happen to be looking for any volunteer opportunities this summer? I know high schools require community service hours to graduate, and I’m supervising the volunteer groups at the church this year.”

Peter’s head starts spinning, unable to process the events of the past hour. He can’t volunteer with Skip, there’s no way. Hell, just standing in his proximity is too much. He shakes his head frantically, warranting a sharp glare from Ross before the man butts in.

“It just so happens that he is!” Ross exclaims, filling Peter with dread. “This sounds like the perfect opportunity for him, could I get the information?”

Skip moves to grab a flier, and Peter feels his knees grow weak. This can’t be happening.

“Peter?”

Peter doesn’t realize he’s about to fall over until Gwen’s supporting his weight. “Oh my god, are you okay?” 

He shudders, unable to keep himself together anymore, and Skip affixes him with a dangerous smirk, telling him without words that he’s dead if he reveals anything. “Why don’t you take him to the bathroom? Secretary Ross and I will work out the details of his volunteer work.”

Gwen has to practically drag him to the bathroom, and by the time they finally get there, Peter’s shaking with silent sobs.

“Okay, it’s okay, just-” Gwen winces as Peter slides down to the floor and curls up into a ball. “Maybe let’s not sit on the floor of the men’s room? It seems pretty gross down there.”

Peter coughs and rests his head on the wall behind him, trying desperately to blink back the tears that are already streaming down his face. He takes a shaky breath, trying to calm himself, and Gwen gingerly takes a seat next to him. 

“This is so disgusting.” They sit in silence for a moment, Peter choking back sobs, until Gwen rubs a sympathetic hand up his arm, trying to calm him. 

Peter practically wails, the soft touches feeling like fire on his bare skin until he finally smacks her hand away. “Okay… no touching,” Gwen infers. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Is it Skip?”

He wants to tell her, he really does. This has been weighing on Peter’s chest since he was eleven years old, and he knows it’s supposed to get easier when he finally sucks it up and tells someone, but what can Gwen do?

Ross and Skip are discussing the volunteer opportunity, which means that Skip will be in his life for at least another summer, if not more. 

There’s nothing she can do, and there’s no use complaining about something he can’t change. 

“I’m fine,” he assures her. “Just- something he said reminded me of Ben, that’s all.”

Gwen raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re sure that’s all?” 

Peter nods. “Can we just go to the car now? I need some fresh air.”

\--------------

Peter had told himself that he was going to go patrol once they get home, but when they finally do, he can’t bring himself to do anything but lay in his bed, practically immobile with terror.

“You’ve been in bed all day, Peter,” Gwen points out, voice laced with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter groans and rolls over to face the wall. He usually doesn’t mind sharing a room that much, but the lack of privacy is infuriating.

“Ross is at work,” she continues, refusing to leave even when Peter ignores her. “You’re obviously upset about something, and leaving you alone doesn’t seem to be helping anything.”

Peter wants to argue that there’s no difference to be made, so he should be allowed to hide in bed for as long as he pleases. Instead, he groans again, praying that Gwen will take the hint and leave.

“Miles and I made a blanket fort,” Gwen singsongs, leaning against the doorframe. “Harry’s making popcorn, and you’re going to come watch Star Wars with us.”

“Empire Strikes Back?” Peter sniffs, finally sitting up.

Gwen smirks. “Sure.”

Peter’s stiff muscles protest as he forces himself out of bed, but it’s worth it when he sees Gwen’s face break out into a relief-filled grin. 

Gwen leads him to the living room, and sure enough, Peter is met with the most pathetic blanket fort he’s ever seen.

“It turns out there aren’t many blankets in the house, and we didn’t want to take the ones from Ross’s bed, so…”

Peter cuts off Gwen’s apology with a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

He winces as his movements pull at the bruises on his back, but eventually, Peter’s able to make himself relatively comfortable on the pile of pillows that Gwen and Miles have filled the fort with. 

“He lives!” Harry exclaims before crawling in next to Peter, carrying a bowl of slightly burned popcorn. 

“Unfortunately,” Gwen snorts, shooting Peter a soft glance. “Miles, get your ass in here.”

Soon enough, all four kids are somehow wedged into the tiny blanket fort, and the opening of The Empire Strikes Back is playing on the screen. 

Peter sighs, sinking deeper into his seat.

He’s still absolutely petrified of what could happen in the future, of course, but his hours alone in his dark room have brought forth a conclusion that makes Peter’s chest tighten.

He has to keep it together. If not for himself, then for his foster siblings, and for all of New York. Yeah, having Skip back in his life is absolutely going to suck, but he can’t use his own misfortune as an excuse to ignore his responsibilities. 

“You have us, you know,” Harry says out of nowhere. “You don’t have to go through life alone.”

Peter wants to appreciate his foster brother’s gesture, he really does, but the statement makes him want to cry.

He knows that Gwen, Harry, and Miles all care about him. Hell, he’d probably die for any of them, and he’s only known Miles for a few days. The issue is, they all have their own shit going on.

Everyone, including Peter, is too busy scrambling to stay afloat when life is desperately trying to drown them. Adding Skip would just be adding another factor in their already chaotic lives, and Peter just can’t bring himself to do it.

Besides, there’s nothing anyone can do, so there’s no point in embarrassing himself. 

“I know,” Peter chokes out, staring at the blurry screen through his tear-filled eyes.

\--------------

It’s the last day of school, and the overwhelming excitement shared by the entire student body seems to mock the despair that Peter feels in every cell of his being. 

As it turns out, when Skip said ‘summer volunteer opportunity,’ he meant the second school ends, which is in approximately seventeen minutes. 

“Are you sure you can’t come over today? MJ and I are going to build a LEGO death star,” Ned pleads, only making Peter feel worse. 

He shoots his friend a forced smile. “Sorry, Ross signed me up for a volunteer group, and it starts today. We should definitely hang out later this summer, though.”

The way that Ned seems to be disappointed with Peter’s answer but not surprised makes the kid’s heart break.

Ned deserves a better friend than him.

“You said no?” A voice asks from behind him, making Peter jump.

“MJ!” he exclaims once he registers who it is. “What have I said about eavesdropping on conversations? You scared the shit out of me.”

MJ smirks. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but Ned’s expression says it all.”

Peter’s face heats up. So he isn’t the only one who noticed how crushed his best friend is. “I hope you guys have fun, though.”

Ned nods half-heartedly, but before he can respond, the bell rings. 

The crowd of pushing students seems harsher, most likely because of the long-awaited summer vacation, but Peter eventually makes it out of the building.

Every step he takes brings him closer to the subway station, and Peter can feel his resolve breaking. It’s bad enough that he has to spend the afternoon with Skip, but what makes it even worse is the fact that he has to go there of his own free will.

Or, at least, under the illusion of free will. In theory, he has the option of not going, but the reaction that Ross would have if he did such a thing simply isn’t worth it.

At least Harry and Miles got signed up, too. Ross had wanted all of the kids to go, but Gwen’s scheduled to babysit for the couple next door. Peter’s relief makes him feel guilty when he realizes that being near Skip might put one of his foster brothers in danger.

What kind of person is happy that the people he cares about have to spend their afternoon with an abuser?

The same kind of person that abandons his best friend over and over again, Peter figures. 

The train seems to last for hours, dread consuming Peter for every torturous second that brings him closer and closer to one of the people who plague his nightmares. 

When the train finally stops, Peter suddenly wishes to go back to the state of anxious waiting, because at least the threat hadn’t been real when he was standing on the subway. 

Standing outside the church, the threat is all too real. Peter’s spider sense alerts him over and over that there’s danger, and the worst part of it is the fact that this danger is unavoidable. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter musters up the courage to open the door and enter the church. 

As soon as he does, he’s met with the sight of Miles and Harry folding pamphlets at a table. Peter lets out a sigh of relief as he goes to join them, Skip nowhere to be seen. 

“Peter!” Miles exclaims, smiling as he sees him coming. “Finally!”

Peter can’t help but smile back, Miles’s good mood is contagious even with the fear building in Peter’s gut. “Where’s everyone else?”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, an electric shock down his spine alerts Peter that a threat had just entered the room. 

“This is an unofficial volunteer session.” Skip’s smooth voice echoes through the church, making Peter’s skin crawl. “Ross wanted you boys to get started as soon as possible.”

Peter flinches at the way Ross says ‘boys,’ as if he were spitting lava.

“Okay,” Peter responds, trying to sound unfazed by the man’s presence. “So, we’re just folding these pamphlets?” he asks, reaching for one from the pile.

“Yeah, I’ll show you-” Harry starts, before he’s interrupted by a wave of Skip’s hand.

“Nonsense,” the man announces. “I’ll show him, you two keep working. Peter, don’t you want to come over here so I can show you?”

His tone is dangerous, and Peter has half a mind to just comply and get it over with, but he can’t force himself to get up. “I- I think we’re fine here,” Peter stammers, studying Skip’s face to see what he’d do about the blatant disobedience.

Surprisingly, Skip nods. “Okay, I’ll show you right here.”

Peter breathes a sigh of relief, and picks up a pamphlet, expecting Skip to sit down beside him and walk him through the process of folding the paper. Not an ideal situation, but at least he’s not alone with the man.

He jumps as Skip leans in close behind him. 

“Oh, did I scare you?” Skip chuckles as he puts his hands atop Peter’s, sending trails of fire up and down Peter’s arms.

Peter looks at his foster brothers in horror, but Harry just spares him a confused glance before he goes back to work, and Miles doesn’t even look up.

“So, you’re going to grab one of these papers,” Skip whispers in his ear, rubbing his hand agonizingly over Peter’s knuckles, “and put it in the larger bulletin. Once it’s there, you fold it like a regular brochure.”

Peter chokes, unable to do anything to get the man’s disgusting hands off of him. “Okay, I got it.”

Skip chuckles again, and Peter freezes, the sound bringing a flood of painful memories. “Sure you do, Einstein, but I think I’ll show you just to make sure.”

Peter allows himself to relax slightly, since Skip showing him how to fold the brochure means that he’ll finally stop touching him, but to his surprise, Skip moves Peter’s hand with his own. 

“There you go,” he praises softly as Peter grabs a sheet of paper, hands shaking under Skip’s warm grasp. “Here, now fold the brochure.”

Peter folds the paper as fast as humanly possible, desperate to get Skip’s hands off of him, but when he finally finishes, the man clicks his tongue. “No, that was way too fast, see? The folds aren’t even. One more time.”

Peter curses internally as Skip’s hands guide his to grab yet another sheet of paper, repeating the process all over again. 

After what seems like hours, Skip is finally satisfied with Peter’s brochure. “I’m going to go to the office over there,” he points down the hall, a dangerous smile painting his face. “When you’re out of paper, meet me in there and I’ll print off some more for you. Let’s see, who should be in charge of that?” The man scratches his head, pretending to ponder his own question. “How about Peter?”

The boy gulps. “Sure.” 

The table falls silent as Skip walks down the hallway, but the second he closes the office door, Harry affixes Peter with a questioning stare. “What the fuck was that?”

Peter blushes, feeling his heart rate skyrocket. “Uh… nothing,” he assures him, but Harry doesn’t seem convinced.

He could tell him. He could tell Harry right now, and the secret of five years would finally be off his chest. 

“He’s a… childhood friend,” Peter decides to go with. “He likes to mess around.”

Harry nods, still not seeming to be totally convinced. 

They fall back into an uncomfortable silence until Miles breaks it by announcing, “Hey, we’re running out of paper.”

Peter feels like he’s about to vomit as he gets up, struggling to stand on his quivering legs. “I’ll go get some more.”

The floor seems to spin as Peter makes his way down the hallway and to the office that Skip is occupying. Deciding not to delay the inevitable, Peter opens the door, deciding to stay in the doorway rather than actually enter the room. 

“Peter!” Skip exclaims, looking up from his paperwork. “Why don’t you come over here, I’ll give you some more paper.”

Peter thinks he may actually vomit as Skip waggles his eyebrows seductively. “No, I think I’m okay here,” Peter says, unable to force himself to get any closer to the man.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Skip sighs. “You’re telling me you didn’t miss me? Not even a little bit?”

Peter’s about to inform him that the day he learned that he was gone was the happiest of his short life, but he freezes as Skip stands up.

“Come here or I’m coming to you,” he orders dangerously.

Peter closes his eyes and forces himself to take a step forward. He takes another, his eyes still screwed shut, but they jolt open when he collides with something solid. 

“Oh, you did miss me,” Skip teases, wrapping his arms around Peter. He freezes again, wanting nothing more than to pull out of the man’s grasp. He should be able to do it--hell, he could probably bench press the man--but in that moment, Peter can’t move. 

“I think you’ll find that listening to me will get you what you want, Peter,” the man whispers, caressing Peter’s face with his cold hands. “You’ve been doing a good job with that so far, I’m very proud.”

Peter gulps, but Skip continues, disregarding the boy’s discomfort. “If you had sent one of your foster brothers,” the man chuckles to himself, “they’d just be in the same situation as you. Now, you don’t want to do that to them, do you?”

Peter’s mouth shoots open in horror.

He hadn’t even registered that as a possibility. He has to protect them, there’s no way he’d be able to live with himself if anything happened to any of his foster siblings because of him. 

Wordlessly, Peter shakes his head.

“Then you’ll do exactly as I say,” Skip smiles, and Peter feels a tear fall down his cheek. “C’mon, kiss me. You know you want to.”

Peter doesn’t. The mere idea of touching Skip willingly is enough to make Peter gag, but he has no other choice. 

Slowly, he leans in, and presses a soft kiss to the man’s lips. 

Apparently that isn’t enough for Skip, and he grabs Peter by the head, holding him in place. Slowly, the man deepens the kiss, and Peter can’t help but whimper at the sensation. 

It’s warm, slimy, and disgusting, and his entire body is screaming for him to get out, but he can’t. There’s no way out-

“Peter?”

Skip finally releases him when Harry’s shocked exclamation echoes loudly through the halls. 

Peter’s horrified that he’s been found in such a demeaning position, but a small part of him can’t help but be glad that someone finally knows. Maybe Harry can even help find an excuse for Peter to stop going to the church volunteer events, and-

“Fuck, I’m completely fine with you being bisexual and everything, but really? The pastor’s son? That’s so cliché.” 

Harry chuckles to himself as he continues down the hallway, and Peter’s stomach sinks. 

Harry thinks it’s consensual.

The feeling only worsens when he looks over to see Skip’s expression, a terrifying mixture of rage and amusement.

“You didn’t tell me you’re still gay, Einstein. I thought I fucked it out of you years ago.”

Peter’s mouth opens in a silent sob as Skip closes the space between them again, and leans down to whisper in the boy’s ear. “It looks like we both have a long summer ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Poor Peter, first Ross and now Skip? Looks like our calendars are all full of crucifixions. (it gets better I promise, there is a happy ending)
> 
> Your comments genuinely give me life, I smile every time I read them. I cannot thank you enough.
> 
> The amazing beta of this story is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting), and her writing is phenomenal. 
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com), feel free to come say hi :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for child abuse and homophobia

It’s hard for Peter to force himself to pull his punches when he patrols. 

Logically, he knows that hurting criminals more than necessary is cruel and immoral, but every sneer looks too similar to Skip’s for Peter to think rationally.

He can’t imagine dealing with Skip for the whole summer. There has to be a way out, the sheer idea of even being in the same room as the man is enough to force Peter to stop in his tracks, desperately sucking in breaths of cool air through his Spider-Man mask.

His patrol has been relatively successful, both in protecting Queens from petty criminals and distracting Peter from the shitshow of an afternoon he’s had. He’s not too disappointed when he realizes that it’s getting late and he has to head back.

A small part of Peter feels terrible for cutting his patrol short, but he feels mentally and physically drained. Anyway, aggravating Ross by staying out late won’t go well for anyone.

Peter swings towards the house, smiling despite himself as the wind brushes against his skin through the suit, savoring the feeling of freedom that he can only seem to achieve as Spider-Man.

He’s just passing Delmar’s when he catches sight of a group of people breaking into the bank on the corner. 

Peter internally groans, hating himself as he does so. Having a shitty day isn’t an excuse for letting criminals get away with robbing an ATM, but in the moment, Peter really wishes that it was.

“What, you guys forgot your PIN?”

The strangers all whip around, and Peter has to suppress a giggle when he sees that they’re hiding their faces with superhero masks made of cheap plastic.

Peter supposes he can’t really talk, seeing how he’d made his superhero debut with a paper bag over his head, but the irony of the situation is still funny. 

The man with the iron man mask hurls a fist at him, but Peter steps out of the way with a split second to spare. “Iron Man!” Peter exclaims, trying to keep his bitterness from seeping into his tone. “It’s great to see you again. But, aren’t you a billionaire? Why are you robbing a bank?”

Iron Man doesn’t respond, which is probably because Peter’s in the process of slamming him into the hard tile floor, but the boy still thinks it’s pretty rude. It was a good joke, after all. 

“Thor, Hulk!” Peter continues, dodging each man’s attacks. “It’s great to finally meet you guys! I-”

He cuts himself off when his spider sense alerts him that one of the men behind him just pulled out a gun. “Okay, no. That’s cheating,” Peter teases as he steps forward to disarm the man, but suddenly, he’s being suspended in the air. 

“What the fuck?”

Every cell in his body is tingling. Peter looks around, frantically trying to figure out what’s going on, and it seems like the criminal has some kind of gun that’s suspending him in midair. 

If Peter wasn’t terrified, he’d be freaking out about the existence of such advanced technology. 

Peter crashes to the ground, and he groans as he forces himself up. “What was that?” He asks, bewildered. “That was weird.”

The criminals seem just as surprised as he is. Figuring that there’s no reason to prolong the fight, Peter lunges at the guy with the gun, but as soon as he does, his spider sense practically screams for him to get out of the way.

He jumps, narrowly avoiding being burned by the laser that came out of seemingly nowhere, and watches in horror as it cuts through the flower shop beside Delmar’s.

There’s fire everywhere. 

Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the scene. If the laser had cut two inches to the left, it would have completely destroyed Delmar’s-

Peter’s stomach drops. Mr. Delmar works late on Sundays.

Suddenly, the group of criminals standing shell-shocked behind Peter become his last priority. His legs carry him to the florist’s shop, and a frantic search of the burning building reveals that there is no one inside the store. 

He breathes a sigh of relief before sprinting next door, where he knows for a fact Mr. Delmar is. 

“Mr. Delmar!” He yells, scanning the shop until he spots the man. “You have to get out, the fire could spread here-”

Mr. Delmar arches an eyebrow at him before complying, and Peter feels his muscles relax. The man is safe, nothing bad has happened.

Peter uses the phone behind the counter to call 911, and while he’s on the phone with the operator, a soft meow from the corner catches his attention. 

How could he have forgotten about Murph?

Peter gets off of the phone, assuring the woman on the other line that no one is hurt and they just need the fire department to put out the fire, and scoops the cat into his arms. 

“It’s okay, Murph,” Peter whispers, petting the cat’s soft fur with his gloved hand. “We’re just going to go outside until the firemen come, it’s going to be okay.”

Peter deposits Murph into Mr. Delmar’s shaking hands, the man clearly in shock from seeing that the building next to his is actually destroyed. “I don’t understand-”

“Are you alright?” Peter asks, trying his best to deepen his voice so Mr. Delmar won’t recognize it. 

The man nods, eyes wide with shock as he clutches the cat close to his chest. 

“Okay. The fire department is sending a truck, everything will be okay. I have to go-” Peter glances over to the bank, and his stomach drops. “Shit.”

The criminals are nowhere to be found. 

Of course they ran away, it wouldn’t have made any sense for them to stay, but it still takes Peter by surprise. 

The realization that the situation would have ended up better if Peter just didn’t intervene is agonizing. 

How did Peter manage to screw things up so badly? 

He has to call Mr. Stark and tell him about the weapons. Peter genuinely has no idea what they are, and that’s terrifying.

Does Stark know?

Peter can’t risk it. If the Avengers don’t know, it’s an inarguable fact that people will end up dying. The weapons are terrifyingly powerful, and Peter’s only seen them in the hands of amateur criminals.

He doesn’t want to imagine what those weapons could do in the hands of people with actual malicious intent.

With the Avengers like a bad boy band, the world would be virtually unprotected from that level of a threat.

They need to stop this before it becomes an issue. 

Peter’s cell phone is heavy in his hand as unlocks it, mentally preparing himself for an extremely awkward conversation.

Tony didn’t seem all too fond of Peter when he last saw the man, but Peter can only pray that the man can find it in himself to set aside his ego and listen to him about this. 

Maybe if he phrased it as needing his help, the man would have an easier time agreeing.

Peter’s extremely familiar with narcissistic assholes, and from his experience, it might just work. Besides, in this situation, Tony would actually be helping him.

God knows Peter doesn’t have the resources to stop this kind of threat.

Peter screws his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before dialing the number that Happy had used to contact him.

The phone rings, and Peter’s heart feels like it’s about to stop when he’s sent to voicemail.

What the fuck? 

“Hey, I know you guys probably aren’t some of my biggest fans right now, but I need your help with something.”

Peter sighs. This is humiliating.

Sucking up to real people is annoying, but at least Peter has plenty of experience. Trying to suck up to someone who isn’t actually there is maddening. 

He decides that it’s better to just bite the bullet. “There was an… incident at a bank, you’ll probably see it on the news later. I know, I screwed up, you don’t have to tell me. My point is, I’ve never seen weapons like the ones that they had. It’s scary, I don’t understand anything about how they work or what they do.”

Peter blushes when he realizes that he’s rambling. “Anyway, I was hoping you could look into that. I’d suggest that you maybe try to find the company responsible for cleaning up after the Chitauri attack, like, before SHIELD took over. I don’t know for sure, but it seemed like whatever’s powering those weapons isn’t from Earth.”

There’s a long pause, and it takes Peter a second to realize that no one’s going to talk back, and that he’d just stopped talking like an idiot.

To be fair, it’s probably for the best. Peter thinks it’s kind of starting to sound like he’s trying to give Tony orders, and if he knows anything about self-centered pricks, that won’t go over well.   
“I mean- whatever you think is best, really. Just, I thought I should let you know that I think something’s up with that. I’d look into it, but I’d be in way over my head,” Peter admits. 

“Okay,” he continues awkwardly, unsure of how to end the call. What’s he supposed to say? ‘The world may or may not be ending, I’m sorry for being indirectly responsible for paralyzing your best friend, have a good day?’

“This is Peter, by the way,” the boy chokes out instead. “Peter Parker. From Germany.”

Peter has to restrain himself from throwing his phone at the nearest wall as he hangs up.

\--------------

“Peter!”

Peter can’t stop himself from beaming as he spots his two best friends sitting at his favorite table in the library.

Ned’s exclamation makes the librarian glare at them over her book, and the boy’s face flushes red as he sits back down.

“You actually made it,” MJ observes, not looking up from her book. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”

Peter winces at her passive aggressive comment. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been busy. Trust me, I definitely would have preferred to build a LEGO death star yesterday than volunteer.”

He makes a face as he spits out the word, trying his best to mask his true hatred with childish complaints about how he’s ‘wasting his summer.’

Ned grins. “We’ll always have another chance! It’s only the first day of summer, there’s plenty of time!”

Peter’s heart melts at his friend’s response. “I really do miss you guys, I’m sorry if-”

“Bullshit.”

Both boys turn their attention to MJ as she snaps her book shut, a scowl on her face. “My question is, why do you have time to join some random volunteer group, but when I organize a volunteer event, you’re too busy to go? Even with our three anonymous benefactors, the entire GSA still had to work our asses off to keep it from going under.”

“MJ...” Ned starts softly, but he’s quickly cut off.

“You cancel plans the day after you make them. You’re constantly busy, but we never actually know what you’re busy doing. Where do you go every day, Peter? What are you hiding?”

Peter freezes. Why does MJ have to be so perceptive? 

“That’s fair,” Peter admits, searching for some way to get himself out of the situation he’s trapped in. “I know it’s probably hard, and I can’t really explain what’s going on, but-”

MJ snorts. “I’m kidding, I don’t really care.”

Ned chuckles nervously, and the sudden change of tone is like a punch to Peter’s stomach. Is MJ actually dropping the subject for good, or does she just sense Peter’s discomfort?

He tries not to think about it too much. After all, it’s not often that he has a chance to just sit down and have a good time with his two best friends.

If MJ wants to make the most of their time together, Peter’s not going to say anything that might cut it short.

\--------------

“You’re late, Peter.”

A pang of guilt hits Peter in the chest when he processes Gwen’s sharp words. “Am I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be, I must have lost track of time with MJ and Ned.”

Gwen crosses her arms, and Peter’s face grows warm with embarrassment. To be honest, he may have taken the long way home because of the overwhelming dread he feels at the thought of going back to the church to volunteer again, but Gwen doesn’t have to know that. 

“Einstein said that time is relative, right?” Miles asks from where he’s hunched over his physics textbook at the kitchen table. “So, maybe he’s not late. Maybe we’re all just early.”

Gwen stifles a giggle as Harry whacks Miles in the face with the sleeve of his jacket, but Peter freezes at the mention of the scientist.

Is he so weak that one word has the power to turn him back into an eleven year old?

“Why the fuck is everyone I live with so smart? I’m cursed,” Harry complains. 

“You’re smart, Harry,” Miles frowns, but Peter’s worried about something entirely different.

“Ross is home?”

Harry blinks in confusion. “No, he’s still at work. Why?”

“You’re wearing a jacket in the middle of June.”

Harry sighs in realization. “This morning,” he explains, pulling the long sleeves up to reveal rings of finger-shaped bruises around each wrist. “He pinned me against the wall in the hallway right outside our room while you were asleep. Honestly, I’m surprised that you slept through it.”

The ease with which Harry tells the story makes Peter’s stomach lurch. “Fuck, I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault,” Gwen and Harry chorus, as is the standard procedure when Peter blames himself for things outside his control.

Peter still frowns. How pathetic is it that Spider-Man can’t even protect the people he cares most about?

Harry sighs, seeing Peter’s conflicted expression. “Seriously, it’s not your fault I don’t have a job yet. I should have found one by now, anyway. I’m literally useless, anyone else could have gotten a stupid job by now.”

“No.” Peter’s expression softens as he sees how his foster brother has to suppress a flinch at his harsh tone. “Harry, you not having a job isn’t a reason for him to pin you against a fucking wall-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Harry spits out, fury in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me he’s just some asshole, Peter. I’ve been here longer than any of you, don’t give me that talk about how ‘the only one at fault here is Ross,’ I fucking know.”

Gwen groans, frustrated with her foster brothers’ bickering, but Miles looks between the pair with fear in his eyes. 

“If you know, then why would you say it’s your fault?”

“I didn’t,” Harry snarls. “I just said that I’m useless. You think I haven’t noticed how you guys undercharge me for groceries-”

“Just until you get a job,” Peter cries. “You don’t have to stretch yourself thin for food, and it’s stupid that you’d rather starve than set aside your fucking pride for one second-”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t have to do! God, you’re so infuriating sometimes. At least I have dignity! You can tell me I’m wrong, but at least I’m not fucking the pastor’s son-”

“That’s enough.” Gwen’s sharp command cuts through Harry’s argument, but Peter can’t hear her over the ringing in his own ears. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I- just don’t…” Peter blinks away tears, and when he can finally see clearly again, his eyes are met with Harry’s face, contorted in confusion.

Peter sniffs, trying desperately to keep his voice void of the emotion that the thought of Skip brought up. “We’re late for the volunteer group.”

Gwen and Harry glance at each other in confusion, and Peter hates himself from being so weak. 

Just the mention of the man, not even by name, was enough to bring him to tears?

No wonder Peter can’t protect anyone else. He can’t even save himself. 

\--------------

The subway ride to the church is incredibly awkward.

“Peter?” Miles’ timid voice breaks the silence that has fallen over them. The question is soft, and if Peter didn’t have super hearing, he might not even have caught it over the sounds of the train. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you going somewhere?”

Miles’s question catches Gwen and Harry’s attention, and Peter arches an eyebrow. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Miles, if this is about the argument I had with Harry-”

“No,” Miles interrupts, tone growing even more frantic. “I saw Ross going through your stuff this morning, it looked like he was packing a bag.”

Peter groans. “Fuck, I can’t believe he went through my things again!”

“No, he was packing a bag!” Miles argues, and Peter shakes his head. 

“He takes things sometimes, it’s happened before.”

It’s easy for Peter to feign nonchalance, but in reality, the idea that Ross took an entire bagful of his things is terrifying. Did he find his Spider-Man stuff?

Probably not, Peter reasons. Ross took his phone away yesterday, maybe he had somehow lost privileges for more things.

Before Peter has a chance to worry about it more, they’re at the church.

Like last time, Peter’s spider sense erupts into action the second they step over the threshold, and it’s honestly exhausting. 

Being in constant fight or flight mode isn’t Peter’s definition of a good time.

Gwen, Harry, Miles, and Peter all sit at a table near the back of the church. The uncomfortable silence that they fell into on the way there lingers, and Peter can’t help but search for Skip in the crowd of people.

He’s honestly surprised that there are other adults and children there. It should be comforting to know that there actually is a volunteer group and it isn’t just something Skip made up, but Peter can’t force himself to relax. 

“We’re so excited to kick off this summer’s volunteer program!”

The kids turn their attention to the front of the church when a cheery woman begins to address the group. 

“First of all, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to come help out our church. We believe in giving back to the community, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Peter groans internally, tuning out the speech as he continues to look for Skip.

Part of him hopes that the man simply isn’t there, but the rational side of him knows that the man wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to terrorize him. 

“-We’ll go out into the community later in the summer,” the woman continues, “but today we’ll focus on small projects around the church.”

Everyone around him nods in agreement, and the woman begins to delegate tasks, but Peter can’t stop the gears in his head from turning.

Does he want a big job so other people will be around and Skip won’t be able to corner him, or does he want a small job so there are fewer people and Skip will be less likely to find him? Maybe there would be outdoor tasks-

“You four in the back, can you clear the bulletin board out front?”

Peter has to force himself to stand up and follow his foster siblings out to the lobby.

“That was kind of… dramatic, wasn’t it? The argument earlier, I mean.” Gwen’s gentle question breaks the awkward silence.

Peter frowns at the paper he’s tearing from the board, but to everyone’s surprise, Harry nods. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been really stressed lately, it’s not fair for me to take it out on you-”

Peter giggles in spite of himself. 

Harry, Miles, and Gwen all stare at him like he’s grown a second head, but Peter can’t calm himself down. “Harry...”

“What?” The boy arches an eyebrow. “Peter, are you okay?”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

Peter’s giggles erupt into full-blown laughter, and Harry groans. “I’ll kill you, Parker, I swear to God-”

“Excuse me, boys,” a cold voice echoes through the lobby, making Peter’s heart drop in horror. “Please try your best not to use the Lord’s name in vain in a house of worship.”

Harry pales, but Peter can barely process the words. 

How is it that Skip has this effect on him every time Peter sees him? 

“It doesn’t seem like you’re getting that much work done here,” Skip accuses. “This really isn’t a four person job, anyway. Peter, can you come help me file some papers in the office?”

There’s no escape.

Peter desperately wants to argue, to point out that filing papers is most definitely a one person job, but Skip’s expression leaves no room for negotiation.

Wordlessly, he moves to stand at Skip’s side. He’d hate to cause a scene, after all.

Skip places a hand on Peter’s back as he guides him toward the already familiar office, and it takes every ounce of restraint that Peter has not to scream.

When the door clicks closed behind them, Peter tears himself away from the man. “What do you want from me?” 

The question escapes Peter’s lips without his permission, and Skip just grins. “Oh, come on. Don’t be mean-”

“I’m serious. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“You don’t really want that,” Skip purrs, taking a step closer to Peter.

“Leave me alone,” Peter orders, internally cursing when his voice cracks. “I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t mess with me like that anymore-”

“Can’t I?” Peter shudders as cold hands run up and down his body, pulling him in closer. “Peter, I think you’ll find that I can do anything I want.”

Peter shakes his head. “I- I’ll tell Ross. He’ll let me stop coming here, the media would have a field day if I ever decided to come forward, and that’s the last thing he wants.”

“You won’t tell the press,” Skip chuckles, calling Peter’s bluff. “As for Ross, I think you’d be interested to know that we had the most interesting conversation over the phone yesterday.”

Peter’s stomach drops. “What?”

Ross’s eyes light up at the sight of Peter’s obvious fear. “Well, I just had to intervene after what I heard from Mr. Osborn yesterday. Did you know that sodomy is a sin, Peter?”

Peter chokes. “You’re one to talk-”

His protest is cut off as Skip presses a finger against Peter’s lips. “When I caught wind that you might be going down the wrong path, I called Ross immediately. Did you know that he gave me his contact information so he could keep tabs on you?”

He pauses as if he’s expecting Peter to respond, even though his hand is still on the boy’s mouth.

“Anyway,” he chuckles, “Ross said he already knew about your little problem.”

Peter’s mouth snaps open to protest, but Skip only tightens his grip, forcing his mouth shut. “He didn’t know what to do, but luckily for him, I know of a great residential program that can get rid of the sickness in your head.”

Peter pulls himself from Skip’s grasp, eyes wide in horror. Is Skip actually talking about conversion therapy? “You can’t-”

“Of course, that’s what I told Ross,” Skip interrupts. “You’d actually just be staying in my apartment for the summer. You’d have to pay rent, of course, but you’ll be so much better off.”

“What?” Peter grips the door handle to steady himself. This can’t be happening, he has to be dreaming-”

“I think you mean ‘thank you,’” Skip’s sneering voice cuts into Peter’s internal panic. “I’m doing you a favor here.”

“I don’t believe you.” Peter’s tone is low, but he forces himself to look Skip in the eyes. “You’re lying, just like how you used to-”

Skip chuckles. “Oh, Peter, we both know I’m not lying.”

Peter hates to admit it to himself, but he wouldn’t put it past Ross. Besides, Miles had said that he saw Ross packing a bag of his things.

When Peter still makes no move to acknowledge Skip’s claim, the man pulls out his cell phone and quickly presses a button.

The phone rings for a few seconds, and when someone finally answers, Skip puts them on speakerphone. “Secretary Ross, I just wanted to confirm the details about tonight. I’m picking Peter up at your house?”

Peter feels as if his blood’s gone cold when Ross’s voice answers. “Yes, that is correct.”

“Great, I’ll be there.” Skip smirks as he hangs up the phone, and the realization that what he’s experiencing is indeed real sends a wave of terror through Peter’s body.

“Leave me alone!” Peter cries, tears pooling in his eyes. “You can’t do this.” 

He fumbles with the door handle, desperate to get out of the cramped room, and Skip’s laughter taunts him. “I’ll see you tonight, Einstein.”

Peter makes his way back to his foster siblings, but his mind is somewhere else for the rest of the afternoon.

\--------------

Peter’s hands shake as he stuffs clothes into his worn out backpack, taking special care to hide his Spider-Man gear at the bottom of the bag.

Hours of thought have revealed that he really has no other choice. 

New York needs Spider-Man.

There are alien weapons out there, and Peter’s the only one who knows about them. He’s thought about what happened at the bank, and the technology has to be powered by materials that aren’t from Earth, there’s no other explanation. 

To move in with Skip would mean giving up Spider-Man. There’s no way he’d get away with sneaking out half as much as he does at Ross’ house, and Spider-Man has to patrol.

Not to mention Peter’s… personal issues with the idea of living with Skip.

He’s just about to climb out the window when the bedroom door opens. “Peter?”

The confusion in Harry’s voice is heartbreaking, but Peter doesn’t have time. Skip will arrive at any second, and he has to be gone. “Harry, listen to me.”

The boy furrows his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything.

“I have no other choice,” Peter admits. “I don’t want to leave you guys, I really don’t but-

“Then don’t,” Harry pleads. “You can’t just leave, that’s not how this works. I thought you knew that-”

The sound of a car engine catches Peter’s attention, and he pales. “Harry, I have to go. I’m sorry, just,” Peter coughs, throat tight as he tries desperately to get the information across in the little time he has left. “Stop volunteering at the church. Or, if you can’t stop, stay away from Skip. Keep Miles and Gwen away from Skip, no matter what.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but at that very second, Peter hears the front door open. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry stands in the doorway, wide-eyed, as Peter disappears into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for all of your lovely comments. I love reading them, and comments are always great motivators to write lmao.
> 
> What did you think? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though it was a pretty heavy one. Feel free to yell at Skip in the comments, I'll be right there with you. 
> 
> My lovely beta is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting)!
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com)!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for hunger, no clear eating disorders but it could be triggering for some

Peter presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, trying desperately to ignore his rumbling stomach.

He walks aimlessly through the night, mind racing. Yes, his choice to leave was definitely selfish and cowardly, but should he go back?

Peter only allows himself to entertain the idea for a few seconds. In reality, his foster siblings would be fine without him. Leaving is best for everyone involved, even if the realization has just hit him that being homeless with an enhanced metabolism is going to absolutely suck. 

He doesn’t entirely regret getting bitten by the spider, but some days, he gets pretty close.

Walking aimlessly down the dark street, his stomach rumbling, it’s difficult for Peter to see the upside of his enhancement.

Like always, the flash of doubt only worsens the guilt that’s made Peter’s brain its home. It’s impossible for him to write off the realization like he usually does when it pops into his head.

Of course Peter loves being Spider-Man, being able to actually help people is a dream come true, but it’s overwhelming. 

He never asked for the power, yet here he is, scrambling to fulfil the responsibility. 

Failing, too, since he hasn’t found anything about his suspected underground weapons-dealers.

It’s honestly pathetic, Peter realizes, that he’s so willing to put his own comfort over the lives of countless people. Here he is, hands in his pockets, feeling bad for himself while the lives of countless people are in danger, and he’s the only one that can save them.

Yeah, his enhanced metabolism makes skipping meals unpleasant, but he just has to suck it up. It’s only been one meal, anyway, so there’s no reason for him to be this hungry. Anyway, Peter has more important things to do.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Peter turns around and heads toward the library. For research, of course, although the prospect of heat and shelter definitely don’t hurt. 

A glance at the sign on the door reveals that it’s open until nine, and Peter breathes a sigh of relief. He has half an hour, he can find plenty of information in half an hour. 

There’s also the issue of where he’s actually going to go once the library does close, but Peter has more important things to worry about. 

He takes a seat in front of one of the computers, yawning as he gets to work. To start, he types the keywords ‘alien weapons,’ but all that leads to is links for bad sci-fi movies.

Peter eventually buries himself in all the articles he can find about the Chitauri attack. Compiling a list of everyone who could possibly have access to alien power sources proves itself to be virtually impossible. The wreckage was blocked off from the public, sure, but it’s not like the borders of police tape were in any way secure. Any random passerby could have picked something up and messed around with it.

Although, Peter quickly comes to realize, there are some people whose status made it ridiculously easy to mass-produce illegal weapons.

Namely the workers in charge of cleaning up after the Avengers.

“Five minute warning,” the librarian calls, but Peter’s too engrossed in his research to process her words.

He’s able to find a list of people who are on the cleanup crew on the Stark Industries website pretty easily. Peter gets the names down in a messy scrawl on a scrap piece of paper before trying to research each person more thoroughly. 

His mouse hovers over the ‘internship opportunities’ tab of the website, but Peter can’t allow himself to click on it.

It feels like he applied a thousand years ago.

Back then, he was a regular kid. His biggest worry was protecting himself from Ross’s wrath, not protecting the world at large from the wrath of evil itself.

Peter shakes his head at the thought. The concepts of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are honestly childish, he’s realized. In reality, the lines are blurred.

So maybe he doesn’t protect the world from evil, but he’s still obligated to try. Some misfortune is unavoidable, but some isn’t, and that’s enough for Peter. 

Anyway, he has more important things to worry about. The internship was a dream of the old Peter, born from dreams and a blissful lack of real responsibility, although he didn’t see it at the time. 

He stares angrily at the computer screen, willingly ignoring the fact that time is creeping by, bringing the library closer and closer to closing. Peter has to get to the bottom of this, he has to.

To do anything else would be selfish.

\--------------

Peter jolts awake when a harsh hand places itself on his shoulder. 

He jumps up from the hard chair and whirls around to face his assailant, fists in the air. Blushing when he finds himself face to face with the librarian, he sighs in relief and lowers his hands.

The librarian, however, doesn’t share in his relief.

“Did you sleep here last night?”

Peter’s mouth shoots open in confusion before he catches sight of the clock on the wall opposite to him.

“I guess?”

His answer sounds like a question, but Peter is too distracted by his own horror to care. 

How is it morning already? He was asleep in public for hours, anything could have happened. Why didn’t his spider sense wake him up?

The librarian sighs. “You can’t just- please get out, kid.”

Her voice is filled with such exasperation that Peter can’t bring himself to argue. Clutching his precious pages of information to his chest, he walks out the door, knees shaking.

Peter’s lost. 

Physically, he knows exactly where he is, but he has nowhere to go. It’s terrifying, really. He has some money saved up from Delmar’s, but not nearly enough to support himself.

A small part of him wonders if getting to move back in with Ross would be worth a few months of living with Skip. Yeah, it would obviously be terrible, but it’s not like he has many other options. 

Besides, his stomach is killing him.

With Peter’s enhanced metabolism, it feels like he’s gone without food for a week when in reality it’s only been a day. He grasps his cramping stomach as he walks down the street, trying desperately to keep his discomfort off of his face as hunger pangs gnawing through his stomach.

He’s never going to take food for granted again.

After wandering around, Peter finds himself dangerously close to Hell’s Kitchen, where he vividly remembers MJ’s soup kitchen being.

The idea of taking advantage of services not meant for him is almost as painful as the hunger itself. There are plenty of people more deserving of help than Peter, and who is he to practically take food out of their mouths? 

Still, every step brings him closer to his personal Garden of Eden. 

Peter needs food. It’s an objective fact that Spider-Man can’t patrol if he’s starving. Maybe taking food from the poor is a necessary evil.

He cringes at the thought. Peter understands that he is poor, but it doesn’t feel like the same thing. 

Still, after a few minutes of wandering around, Peter finds himself staring at a sign that reads ‘Soup kitchen - grand opening! Thank you, Midtown Tech GSA.’

The mention of his school hits Peter like a punch in the stomach. That’s just one more thing for him to feel guilty about. 

Silently praying that no one he knows will be volunteering, Peter enters the building. There are a considerable amount of people there, but only a few are volunteers. The rest are eating out of styrofoam cups, some alone and others gathered in small groups.

Luckily for Peter, a glance at the table reveals that none of the volunteers are kids from his school. He’d never live that one down. 

“Are you here for a meal?”

Peter stares blankly as a brunette woman addresses him from behind the buffet-style counter, her hair swept up in a hairnet. After a few seconds of standing awkwardly in the doorway, his mind catches up with his body. “Oh, yep. Is… that okay?” he asks awkwardly, seconds away from running in the opposite direction. 

Instead of kicking him out, the woman's eyes crinkle, indicating that she’s smiling under the mask she’s wearing. “Of course! We only have a little soup left, but my associate is restocking now, so your timing is perfect!”

Peter took a hesitant step forward. The tomato soup smells like heaven itself, and Peter’s stomach is rumbling like he hasn’t eaten in days.

Which, Peter realizes, isn’t too far from the truth. 

“Be careful, it’s hot,” the woman warns him cheerfully as she ladles the rest of the soup into a paper cup, and her indistinct accent makes the words sound like waves rolling in the sea.

Peter smiles thinly and goes to accept the cup, trying desperately to keep his hands from shaking, but he cringes as his fingers collide harshly with the hot metal pot.

“Fuck!”

He pulls his burned hand back to cradle it to his chest, and watches in horror as the woman’s hands shoot to cover her mouth, dropping the cup of soup.

Time seems to move in slow motion. Peter’s spider sense screams at him to catch the cup, and before Peter knows what’s happening, his good hand grabs the cup right before it hits the ground. 

Peter and the woman stare at each other in shock for a second before Peter finally scurries away.

Holy shit.

He shouldn’t have done that. No normal person would have been able to catch a cup of soup milliseconds after getting what probably would be a pretty bad first-degree burn on someone without enhanced healing. 

Peter can only pray that the woman didn’t get too suspicious. Being identified as an enhanced individual definitely isn’t something that he needs right now. 

He sits down at the table farthest from where the woman is serving soup, and takes a sip from his own cup. Realistically, Peter knows that he’s drinking mediocre tomato soup from a paper cup, but it’s the most delicious thing that he’s ever eaten. 

To Peter’s dismay, the soup is gone mere seconds later. 

He can’t help himself from glaring at the cup, hoping that maybe if he concentrated hard enough he could bring the soup back, until he’s startled by a chuckle.

“What did that cup ever do to you, kid?”

Peter does his best not to flinch away as the owner of the gruff voice, a man with long hair and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, sits next to him.

“I guess I’m just not ready to come to terms with the fact that I’m out of soup,” Peter jokes, forcing himself to look the man in the eye. 

“You’re hungry?”

The man’s question is simple, yet loaded. A lifetime of experience has taught Peter that there is only one right answer to that question. Admitting his hunger has only ever led to a sharp backhand followed by a lecture about how he’s ungrateful, and is just another mouth to feed when it’s already hard to put food on the table.

Of course, May and Ben never did that, but his eating was less of a problem back then. 

Still, Peter nods. There’s no harm in indulging a stranger who just wants to make conversation, is there?

“Here, I’ll get you some more.” The response is accompanied by a kind smile, but Peter furrows his eyebrows.

“Oh, no,” he protests. “I can’t just take your soup, you need that-”

Peter’s arguments are cut off when the man shakes his head. “No, I’m a volunteer. You’re not taking anything away from me.”

Peter gapes, face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just assume like that, of course you’re not-”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a hand, kid. I’m not offended.” His statement is firm, but the man’s eyes are still kind, although pity bleeds into his expression when Peter’s stomach rumbles loudly. “Just wait here, I’m getting you more soup.”

Before Peter can argue any more, the man crosses the room to get more soup from the counter. He can’t help but feel guilty, seeing how the pot was just refilled and Peter’s already taking more, but he just doesn’t have the willpower to turn down the man’s offer. 

The man makes his way back to the table, and Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of the soup for a second. He may be desperate for food, but there’s no way he’s letting some stranger drug him.

“Here you go, you look like you need it.”

Peter frowns at that, but he accepts the soup, this time savoring it. There’s no telling when he’d get more food, and he draws the line at two cups. 

“I’m James, by the way,” the man tells him, breaking the awkward silence. “Wanda--the girl over there by the soup--tells me you could use some medical attention?”

“Peter,” he replies automatically, wincing at the reminder of his burned hand. “And I’m okay.”

James’s skeptical glance feels like sandpaper on his skin. “Really, it wasn’t that bad,” Peter promises, shoving his now barely-injured hand deeper into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “It’ll heal.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything.

He seems like the quiet type, Peter notices. He’s also wearing gloves and a leather jacket in the middle of the summer, which puts Peter on edge. He knows he should probably leave it alone, but Peter can’t help prying.

“So… what’s your deal?”

James seems confused by the question, but the possibilities in Peter’s mind are endless. Is the man in an abusive relationship? Does he need help? Is this a Spider-Man situation?

“I could ask you the same,” the man chuckles. “I’m just a guy.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “There has to be more than that! Like, why are you volunteering here?”

James sighs. “I guess I know what it’s like to need help, and now that I’m in the position to provide it-”

“-You feel obligated to do all you can,” Peter finishes for him. “That makes sense.”

“Are you doing the talking, or am I?” James huffs, making Peter sink back into his chair.

He should know this by now. No adult wants to hear his meaningless thoughts, Ross has done a spectacular job drilling that into his head. Why would a stranger at a random soup kitchen be any different?

“You’re right, though,” James admits softly, catching Peter’s attention. “What about you? What’s your deal, kid?”

Peter pauses, uncomfortable with the sudden mood change. Where’s the lecture about respecting his elders?

“I guess I’m also just a guy,” Peter ventures, making the man roll his eyes. 

“Please. You’re a kid.”

Peter chuckles, and he can see the man suppress a smirk. “I’m serious,” James continues. “You’re not ‘just a guy,’ you’re a child. A whippersnapper. Use the correct terminology.”

The man is amused, but his fixation with Peter’s age puts him on edge. “So?”

“Never mind. Anyway, what’s your deal? Why are you here?”

“I… was in a bad situation,” Peter decides to say. “Now I’m not.”

The man’s raised eyebrow hurts Peter more than his hand. “Well- you know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James chuckles. “Hey, listen.”

The change in tone makes Peter sit up, subconsciously preparing to be kicked out. He did take two cups of soup, after all. 

“You seem like a good kid, and you’re obviously having a rough time.”

Peter opens his mouth to argue, but realizes that there’s not much he can say to disprove the man’s statement. 

“Will you let me help you out after my shift is done? I’m only here for, like, thirty more minutes. Anything you need, it’s yours.”

Peter’s stomach sinks. “What’s the catch?”

James’s expression softens. “No catch, kid. I just want to do all I can to help, just like you said.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise, still skeptical of the man’s offer. “I don’t think I can accept anything,” he chokes out. “I’d feel bad, and anyway, I don’t know you. How do I know you’re not some cold-blooded murderer?”

“I’m not going to murder you.”

James’s tone is a bit too serious for Peter’s liking, but his mouth stays firmly shut. 

Finally, the man sighs. “Just- do you want to go to the dog park? I was going to go anyway, and you wouldn’t be accepting anything except for the chance to just be a kid for a bit.”

Peter can’t help but laugh out loud at James’s random suggestion. “The dog park?”

For the first time in their short conversation, James blushes. “Yeah, it’s a nice place to go when you’re having a hard time. Public place, so you’d be safe, and I can even ask Wanda over there to join us if you’re still nervous”

Peter considers the offer. What is there for him to lose? A morning at the dog park does sound nice, and if this guy does end up being weird, Peter’s literally Spider-Man. He can take care of himself.

“Okay,” Peter nods, surprising even himself. “That sounds nice.”

\--------------

“You’re sure he’s a mutant?” Bucky looks at the teenager across the room, scepticism evident in his question, but Wanda nods. 

“I’m telling you, he burned his hand and then caught a cup of soup like it was nothing,” Wanda assures him. “He at least has enhanced reflexes, if not something else.”

Bucky sighs. “Even if that’s true, are you sure we should interfere? I asked him to let us help like you said, but the kid’s better off on his own.”

“You have to be kidding.” Wanda’s expression sharpens, her anger almost palpable. “He’s lonely! That kid is scared, I felt it. He at least deserves to know that he’s not alone-”

“He knows!” Bucky hisses. “Wanda, the entire world knows. Lagos, the UN, the whole ‘civil war’ thing in Germany- it’s very clear that the world is aware that enhanced people exist.”

“That’s just another reason why we have to help him!” Wanda exclaims. “You, of all people, should understand how terrifying this kind of thing can be. We don’t know what’s going on with him, what if it’s HYD-”

“Lower your voice,” Bucky growls. “You’re going to get us both sent to the Raft, and Steve won’t be able to get us out of the situation this time.”

“Plus, he’d skin you alive,” Wanda teases. “He seems like he’s seconds away from buying a backpack-leash for you.”

Bucky blushes. “Can’t really blame him, considering.”

“It’s fine, B- James,” Wanda assures him, expression softening. “We’re being careful, nothing’s going to happen.”

“Like your stupid hairnet and mask are going to do anything to keep people from recognizing you,” Bucky scoffs.

“At least I’m trying,” Wanda points out. “Anyway, it’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

“You know, when you said we’d be providing inventory for a new soup kitchen, I didn’t think we’d actually have to stick around for more than a few minutes,” Bucky complains, rubbing the soft fabric of his shirt anxiously between his gloved fingers. “Steve’s going to go berserk when he finds out what we’re doing here, you promised it would be in-and-out.”

Wanda cringes and drops her eyes to the floor. 

As much as they joke about it, it has been hard for Bucky and Steve to develop a good balance after being separated for so long. Steve’s fear that Bucky will be ripped away from him again is terrifyingly real, and Wanda hates that she’s putting them all even more at risk. 

“I know, I’m sorry. The organizer was two volunteers short, and I panicked-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky interrupts her. “Just- that’s my point. Why bring Peter into this? For all we know, he could be living a normal life.”

“He could be suffering,” Wanda points out. “You can’t tell me you don’t at least want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Bad things happen in the world, that doesn’t mean we’re responsible for fixing everything.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who invited him to a dog park, you weirdo. I’ve spent enough time with you to see that this is just about as caring as you get. Besides, he hasn’t recognized either of us yet, so it’s safe, right?”

Bucky shrugs, but decides not to argue any further. 

He knows when he’s beaten.

\--------------

Peter jumps when he senses two people approaching him from behind. 

“Woah, relax. It’s just us.”

His body automatically relaxes at James’s gravelly tone, which is concerning. He just met this man, why does his spider sense already trust him?

That’s either a very good or very bad thing. Peter can’t figure out which.

“Hi, Peter,” the pretty brunette from before greets him. “I’m W… Gwanda.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at James in confusion. “I thought you said her name is Wanda?”

The man perks up in alarm. “Did I? I don’t think so, you must have misheard me.”

Peter nods, still not entirely convinced. “So, dog park?”

Wanda chuckles. “Isn’t it weird? I never understood it, but James insists on going all the time.”

“It’s not weird,” Bucky argues. “The dogs are cute! I’m allowed to have things that make me happy, Gwanda.”

Wanda’s expression softens in a way that goes over Peter’s hand. “Of course you are.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Peter admits softly. “I didn’t know you were allowed in a dog park without a dog.”

“What are they going to do, kick us out?” Wanda’s tone is light, but in reality, the fear of getting caught in public is a terrifying weight crushing both her and James. “Besides, James knows the dog parks. He picked this one specifically because it will be less crowded.”

Peter nods, but he pauses as the two adults step up to the gate. “We’re seriously going to a dog park? You’re not, like, secretly going to call child services?”

James shakes his head slowly. “Kid, I don’t really know how to say this, but I’d never do that to you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

Wanda practically squeals, breaking the strange mood that has fallen between the pair. “Oh my god, James, was that emotion?”

James pulls his baseball cap lower over his eyes and mutters, “shut up,” before letting himself into the park.

“He’s usually a pretty stoic guy, so I hope you know he’s basically adopted you at this point.”

Peter blushes at Wanda’s statement, hating the fact that the fantasy didn’t seem too bad.

How pathetic is it that Peter trusts this stranger more than any adult he’s come into contact with since Ben and May died?

Wordlessly, Peter lets himself into the enclosure behind James, unsure of how to respond to the woman. 

A playful German Shepherd pounces on Peter as soon as he steps inside.

The owner immediately runs over, horror painting their face, but Peter’s in heaven. The dog paws at his torso and licks at his face, and Peter has never felt more alive.

“Let me help you up,” a familiar voice chuckles, and Peter looks up to see James smiling down at him.

“But the puppy,” Peter pouts, accepting the man’s extended hand.

It feels strange, almost too solid, but Peter doesn’t allow his mind to linger on that.

“That ‘puppy’ is your size, Peter,” Wanda chastises him. “Of course James would find a kid with no self-preservation instincts.”

Peter grins sheepishly before greeting another dog that’s wagging its tail in excitement. “They’re all so cute!”

Part of Bucky tells him to stop the teen, avoid the scene that the kid is making with the dogs, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he asks a question that surprises all three of them.

“Where are you staying, Peter?”

Peter freezes mid-pet, much to the disdain of his new friend. “What?”

“Do you have a safe place to live?”

Peter shrugs, the expression on his face practically shattering Bucky’s heart. “I- you’re a stranger, I can’t tell you where I live. Stranger danger and all that,” he jokes, a grim expression still on his face. 

To be honest, Bucky is seconds away from asking the kid to crash at his and Steve’s place, just for a little bit. Yeah, it was supposed to be a secure apartment, but he can’t just leave the kid by himself. 

The more rational side of him knows that it’s impossible, no matter how bad he feels for the kid. Being enhanced alone, unaware of anything that’s going on, is excruciatingly lonely. Bucky imagines that being a teenager and having to figure it out alone is even worse.

There’s just too much on the line. It’s too dangerous.

Instead, he says, “They’re getting ready to renovate an apartment building in Queens, demolition’s probably not scheduled for a few weeks. That would be a good place to squat, I’ll give you the address.”

Peter nods, wide-eyed, and Bucky pulls out a beaten up burner phone. “Here, I had the address saved… just in case, you know.”

He hands the phone over to Peter, and the kid can’t believe his eyes. There, on the screen, is the address for his old apartment building. His home that he shared with his aunt and uncle.

“What?” Wanda asks, sensing Peter’s unease. “Is something wrong?”

Peter forces a smile and shakes his head. “Everything’s okay. Just- I want to pet the dogs a little longer. I’ll check out the building later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So James and Gwanda ;)
> 
> (I'm really channeling ITSV Gwen, huh?)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, thank you so much for reading! Your comments continue to make my day, and I really appreciate the interaction that this has been getting. 
> 
> My lovely beta is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting), she has some amazing WIPs coming soon that y'all should definitely look for!
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com), feel free to come say hi :)


	9. Chapter 9

The sight of his old apartment building takes Peter back to a simpler time.

A time before the spider bite, when superheroes lived on an unreachable pedestal in Peter’s young mind. 

What wouldn’t he give to go back?

Scaling the building is a piece of cake, and the soup in his stomach makes Peter feel like a whole new person.

He drops down onto a familiar fire escape and takes a deep breath before crawling through the window. Peter can’t seem to shake off the weird feeling that he gets when he finally sees his childhood bedroom for the first time since everything changed.

His bed is gone.

All of the furniture in the room is missing, dust bunnies and scraps of paper littering the ground in their place. Presumably, the rest of the furniture in the apartment is gone as well, and it’s enough to make the tears in Peter’s eyes threaten to spill over. 

He knows it’s stupid to get worked up over furniture of all things, but that was the bed he grew up sleeping in. His aunt and uncle had read him stories in that bed, and stayed up with him when he was sick, and it’s gone just like that. 

Of course, Skip personally saw to it that Peter also has a few not-so-nice memories of that bed, but it’s hard to think rationally when he’s filled with such overwhelming loneliness. 

He can’t help but wonder if this is all that life is. If he’s just destined to forever have people, situations, and objects leave his life as suddenly as they enter it.

Yeah, maybe his life isn’t terrible, but the good aspects of life feel like a stone dropped into a vast sea. It’s enough to make ripples, displace the water for a second, but the water reliably returns to its original state almost immediately after. 

Being in the old apartment is almost unbearable. 

Every time Peter turns a corner, it’s like he’s expecting to see May watching TV in the living room or Ben reading the paper at the kitchen table. The constant disappointment of realizing that he’s truly alone in life is enough to make Peter want to scream.

Is he alone? Usually, Peter would remind himself that he has his foster siblings, so of course he’s not alone, but it’s getting hard to convince himself that it’s true. 

He basically abandoned them.

Peter understands that he would have left either way, but he can’t help thinking that he should have found another way. Without him there to act as a buffer, who knows what’s happening to them? Especially since his sudden departure had undoubtedly made Ross angry.

Peter imagines Gwen bending over Ross’s bed, stomach churning with dread as she listens to Ross unbuckle his belt, and it’s almost enough to make him sick.

It’s all his fault. They’re suffering, and it’s because of him.

Peter wracks his brain for a way that Spider-Man can make a home visit without revealing his identity, but quickly gives up. 

It’s just too risky.

He tries to take his mind off of his foster siblings, if only for his own sanity, and his mind eventually floats to the man from this morning. 

Peter’s sure he knows them from somewhere. Their faces are just too familiar, there’s no way he’s never seen them before. He wonders briefly if they could be stalking him, and that’s why he knows their faces, but it just doesn’t make sense. 

His spider sense didn’t think that James and Gwanda were a threat to him. Anyway, he’d know if he had a stalker. 

The problem is, Peter can’t figure out what they want from him. His presence at a soup kitchen makes it pretty clear that he has nothing of worth. It’s possible that they’re just predators, and therefore not after material goods, but that still doesn’t make sense. 

They took him to a dog park. 

Peter shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of the weird mood he’s been in ever since he entered the apartment. They were just two weird strangers, and he’s never going to see them again. That should be the end of it. 

Still, Peter can’t keep himself from thinking about the man. 

His haunted expression is burned into Peter’s memory. His eyes filled with a strange mixture of sincerity and doubt, almost hidden by the low brim of his baseball cap.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get the image out of his head. People come and go from his life, and James isn’t any different. He shouldn’t care. 

He places his backpack on the ground with a huff.

Sorting through his things, Peter quickly pulls out his notes from the library and sets them aside. That’s what he should be focusing his attention on. Not memories, or strangers, or dog parks.

If he was more responsible, he would have stopped at the kitchen for a quick cup of soup before patrolling. 

Peter frowns as he shuffles through his bag, hands running over the seams of the few t-shirts he’d been able to shove into the bag in his haste. 

Of course he had to run away right after giving all his money to Harry for groceries. Classic Parker luck.

He doesn’t have his phone either.

Peter groans at the realization. How did it take him this long to notice? Ross still has his phone from when he took it away yesterday.

He carefully puts everything back, making a mental note to ask Mr. Delmar for an advance on his next paycheck. He can’t rely on the soup kitchen, and food costs money. 

That thought, of course, sends Peter into another spiral. 

What the hell is he doing? Sooner or later, the building’s renovation is going to start, and he’ll have to find somewhere else to stay. There’s no way he can get his own place, the idea’s practically laughable. 

Part of Peter wonders if he should go back to Ross’s.

A glance into his childhood bedroom convinces Peter that he should absolutely not go back to Ross’s. It’s actually considerably difficult for Peter to force himself not to get as far away from Skip as humanly possible, so willingly subjecting himself to a summer in the man’s house is out of the question. 

He could call his social worker, Peter reasons, but chances are she’d just take him back to Ross’s.

Peter sighs, curling up on the ground.

It’s hopeless. Peter’s doomed, and there’s no reason for him to continue to deny that fact.

He can’t continue like this for much longer. 

\--------------

When Peter wakes up the next morning, it takes him a second to remember where he is.

He sits up, back sore from sleeping on the ground, and glances around for his foster siblings before he remembers that he’s asleep in his childhood apartment. More specifically, on the floor of the kitchen in his childhood apartment. 

Peter screws his eyes shut, allowing himself to imagine only for a moment that he’s still living with his aunt and uncle. 

He and Ben had just finished building a blanket fort in the kitchen, and despite May’s protests, she’s smiling too. 

‘Don’t be such a downer, May,’ Ben would say. ‘It’s comfortable in here, see?’

May would laugh, shaking her head at Ben’s antics, and crawl into the fort behind them. She’d settle on the other side of Peter, and he’d smile as he is sandwiched between his two favorite people.

‘You’re cleaning all this up,’ May would warn, the smile never leaving her face as she and Ben wrap Peter in a warm embrace.

He feels so safe. A calm washes over him, he feels truly content for the first time since May and Ben died-

The fantasy shatters as his wristwatch beeps, signalling that it’s time for Peter to go to work. 

Peter groans, forcing himself to get up. It’s probably for the best, he figures. There’s no use in dwelling in fantasies, especially since it’s literally impossible for them to come true.

He spends the entirety of his relatively short commute to the bodega wondering why he ever agreed to work morning shifts. 

“Peter!”

Mr. Delmar’s cheery tone is enough to put a small smile on Peter’s face. 

“Hey, it’s my second-favorite coworker!” Peter exclaims, dropping his backpack so he can stroke Murph’s soft ears. 

“I’m your boss, kid,” the man reminds him, but the fond grin on his face puts Peter at ease. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Peter gives Murph one last pat before letting himself behind the counter, tying an apron behind his back as he does. 

“The whole Spider-Man thing last weekend was crazy, huh? Flo’s shop is practically burned to the ground.”

Peter stops in his tracks, guilt immediately washing over him. “Yeah, someone has to stop that Spider-Man, it’s a miracle that no one was hurt-”

“No, kid,” Mr. Delmar interrupts him, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t tell me you believe that shit they say about him in the news. He’s a good guy, he came to make sure I was alright.”

Peter frowns, his guilt only growing. “What do you mean? You wouldn’t have needed to be saved if it weren’t for him, right?”

The man sighs. “I guess that’s true, but at least he takes responsibility for his actions, you know? That’s more than you can say about a lot of the heroes you see nowadays.”

“You think he’s a hero?”

A strange sensation floods Peter’s chest as the question leaves his mouth. He’s not a hero by any means, but it’s actually kind of a freeing sensation for Peter to finally have someone understand his motives. 

“As much of a hero as any man could be, I guess,” Mr. Delmar replies. “He saved Murph, too. I thought that would have made him a saint in your eyes.”

Peter can't help but chuckle dryly at that. “I do love Murph.”

Mr. Delmar pats him on the back, and Peter barely suppresses a flinch. “I’m going to go next door and see if Flo needs anything, stay here and watch the store.”

“Okay, let me know if I can help with anything,” Peter calls out as his boss leaves, guilt threatening to consume him.

Peter pulls on a pair of gloves, giggling as he watches Murph hop down from the counter and pad to his usual spot near the window, basking in the morning sun that’s just beginning to peek through.

He can’t help but hope that the store is this empty for the entire morning. Yeah, Peter understands that the bodega needs to make money, but he just doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with the general public. 

A regular customer or two would be okay, he figures, but it’s already taking a considerable amount of willpower for Peter not to curl up under the counter and go to sleep. He could never do that to Mr. Delmar, though. The man has been nothing but good to him, and Peter’s grateful, but sometimes he wishes the man was mean enough to justify sneaking a sandwich or two.

He looks around the shop, searching desperately for something to think about other than the overwhelming dread surrounding the fact that he’s going to have to return to Ross’s sooner or later. 

Peter gratefully allows his attention to shift back to Murph, who is just beginning to pur.

He can’t help but smile at the sight. Murph is happy, and that alone is enough to make a warm feeling surge in his chest. 

Murph startles as the bell rings, signaling that the door has opened.

“Mr. Delmar, is everything okay next door?” Peter asks, not taking his eyes off of the majestic cat in the window.

When his question is met with silence, Peter finally looks up, and his stomach drops in horror. 

The customer staring back at him is none other than Flash Thompson. 

“Sorry, what can I get you?” Peter corrects himself, quickly putting on his best customer service voice. 

His fantasy that Flash would just pretend not to know him and continue the interaction like normal crashes down around him as Flash’s face contorts into a mean smirk.

“Penis? I didn’t know you worked here.”

The boy’s cruel tone sends a shiver down Peter’s spine. “What can I get you?” he asks again through gritted teeth, silently praying that Mr. Delmar would walk through the door and make Flash leave.

“I’m still thinking,” Flash dismisses. “Why do you even have this job? I thought you signed up for the Stark Internship.”

Peter has to suppress a groan at Flash’s innocent question. The easy answer is he works because he needs the paycheck, but it’s too humiliating to say that outright. 

“The internship is for the school year,” he says instead. “I thought you signed up, shouldn’t you know that?”

Flash’s eyes narrow at the hidden jab to his intelligence, but instead of blowing up, he turns up his nose and smirks. “Of course, I’m not an idiot. I’m spending my summer studying and doing volunteer work, which in my opinion, is the smarter thing to do. Tony Stark would no doubt prefer community service and high test scores to some shitty minimum wage fast food job.”

Peter frowns, struggling to maintain the facade of professionalism. “Are you ready to order?”

Flash clicks his tongue. “Okay, I’ll take a number four. Not toasted, since I know your clumsy ass would burn it anyway.”

Peter sighs as he punches the order into the register. “That will be four ninety-five, how will you be paying?” 

He has to suppress a sigh as Flash pulls a fucking Platinum card from his wallet and waves it in his face. 

“Okay, one second,” Peter says in his cheeriest voice, internally thanking Mr. Delmar for fixing the chip reader. 

Flash pays, pressing the ‘no tip’ option on the card reader without a second thought, and Peter tries to keep his face neutral as he waits for the payment to process. 

Peter can’t fault himself when he grabs the receipt as soon as it prints and practically throws it at the boy, wanting to get away from the entire situation as soon as possible. “I’ll get that right out for you-”

“Could I get a cup for water?” 

Peter’s retreat to the kitchen is halted by Flash’s request, and without a second thought, Peter hands over a cup before continuing to make the sandwich. 

He rolls his eyes as the sound of Flash talking on the phone fills the small shop. The only thing keeping Peter sane is the knowledge that one can only stay in a bodega for so long, meaning Flash will eventually leave. 

Making the sandwich is pretty easy, and the process is only made simpler by the request for it not to be toasted. 

“Take that, fucker,” he whispers under his breath, barely resisting the urge to spit in the sandwich. 

Peter may be cliché sometimes, but that would be dramatic even for him. 

“Number four, not toasted,” Peter calls, even though Flash is the only one in the store. 

The boy comes up to the counter and takes his sandwich, a frown plastered on his face. “Ice machine’s broken,” he grunts, glaring at Peter as if he purposely broke the machine just so he would have to go without it. 

“Sorry about that,” Peter says lightly, biting his tongue when he sees that the drink that Flash just slammed onto the counter is Pepsi, not water. 

Of fucking course. 

“Fill it up, rookie,” Flash orders, the shadow of a smirk turning the corners of his lips upward. “I don’t have all day.”

Peter wordlessly grabs the cup, practically shaking with anger as he goes to put ice in the soda. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. I swear it’s him, I guess he’s broke or something?” 

Flash’s conversation on the phone is loud enough that Peter thinks he’d probably be able to hear it from the kitchen even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing. 

“It’s kinda selfish of him, don’t you think?” Flash continues. “I mean, some of us actually have academic aspirations, and his goals obviously just aren’t the same.”

Peter wants to scream. Instead, he scoops ice into the cup of stolen Pepsi, silently willing Flash’s conversation to move away from the subject of his financial issues. 

When has Peter ever gotten what he wants?

“You know I’m right. Academic decathlon, band, robotics club? If I hadn’t stepped up, the decathlon team would have lost nationals. It’s the same with robotics, and you know the band program is suffering. While the rest of us are working our asses off to appeal to colleges, he’s off in an entirely different world.”

Peter bursts out of the kitchen and practically slams the drink onto the counter, desperate to end Flash’s conversation with whoever is on the other end of the line. 

“The soft drink will be a dollar twenty-five,” Peter informs him monotonously, which only makes the smirk on the boy’s face grow. 

“Yeah, he’s not even good at it. Like, how hard could making sandwiches be?” 

Flash chuckles and walks off with the drink, disregarding Peter’s demand for money.

Peter can’t deal with it anymore. He storms into the kitchen, pressing his palms over his eyes, and just stands there. His hands cool his flushed face, and he stays motionless even when the ringing of the bell indicates that someone else has entered.

It could also mean that Flash left, but Peter’s not about to take that chance. 

“Hey, kid.” 

Peter perks up as Mr. Delmar walks into the kitchen. “How’s everything over here?”

“Fucker put Pepsi in a water cup and didn’t tip,” Peter grumbles, crossing his arms and pouting like a petulant child. 

Mr. Delmar groans. “With everything that’s happened lately, you’d think people would have some humanity.”

Peter snorts. “I don’t know if ‘humanity’ is in Flash’s vocabulary.”

“You know him? From where, school?”

“Yeah, he goes to my school. Fucking asshole-”

Peter’s cut off as Mr. Delmar storms out of the kitchen. 

“Hey!”

The man’s sharp voice cuts through the walls of the shop, and Peter has to stifle a giggle. 

“Hey, asshole! You’re seriously stealing from me?”

Peter watches through the window as Flash shoots out of his chair, and the jarring sound of the legs scraping against the tile floor startle Murph enough for him to jump down from where he had been sleeping in the sun. 

“I didn’t-”

“The drink is a dollar twenty-five, I’m not asking again.”

Peter smirks as Flash digs around in his pockets, slamming two dollars onto the table. “I want my change”

Mr. Delmar laughs. “No, kid, that’s the tip.”

He grabs the two bills from the table, and Peter revels in the dumbstruck expression on Flash’s face. 

“Thank you, have a good day.”

Flash storms out of the store, and Peter lets himself out of the kitchen, practically doubled over in laughter. 

“Here you go,” Mr. Delmar grunts as he opens the register and takes three quarters, promptly pressing them into Peter’s hand. 

Peter smiles. “You didn’t have to do that, it was honestly fine-”

“He had it coming,” the man cuts him off, and Peter can’t really disagree with him. “He messes with you at school?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Peter admits, staring at the floor. 

Mr. Delmar quiets. 

Finally, after a few seconds of awkward silence, he puts a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I know you, Peter. You’re one hundred times smarter than that little shit.”

Peter laughs. “I don’t know about that-”

“I’m serious! As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best kid in that fancy school you go to.”

“Not for long,” Peter beams proudly, suppressing a snort at the man’s puzzled expression. “Gwen, my foster sister, applied for a scholarship. She’ll start in August if it’s approved, and I have no doubt that it will be.”

The man smiles. “Well, how about that? Two geniuses in one family. Maybe she’ll finally stand up to that kid for you.”

Mr. Delmar gestures to the door, and the mention of Flash makes Peter groan. “You’re probably right. I’ll just have to keep them separate.”

“Would it really be such a bad thing if she got him to leave you alone?”

Peter cringes at the question. Physically, he could stop Flash from picking on him in a heartbeat, but that would entail hurting a civilian. An annoying one at that, but he still can’t do it in good conscience. 

“I dunno,” Peter shrugs. “I don’t want her to have to take care of me.”

“Is being taken care of really the end of the world?”

Peter frowns. He’s never really thought about it that way.

“I guess not.”

\--------------

Peter makes his way back to the apartment complex once his shift is over, backpack slung over his shoulder.

He almost goes back to the soup kitchen, desperate to get any extra calories he can before patrolling, but Peter can’t.

He already ate at work, and besides, it would be weird to take food twice in one day. 

As hard as it is to admit to himself, Peter’s just beginning to think that a large part of why he wants to go back is to see James and Gwanda again. The realization is honestly terrifying.

Peter shouldn’t rely on them. It’s honestly pathetic that he’s able to build attachment after a few mere minutes of conversation.

He can’t keep himself from chuckling humorlessly as he scales the apartment building, slipping into his old bedroom window.

How pathetic can one person get?

Yeah, Peter knows he’s not exactly thriving in the department of human interaction right now, but this is a new low.

He sets his backpack down on the dusty floor, and pulls out the crumpled piece of paper with his bits and pieces of research from the library. Familiar guilt washes over him at the mental reminder that he should have been getting more information yesterday morning, not becoming emotionally attached to two strangers.

Peter squints, trying his hardest to put everything together, but the scribbled list of names just isn’t enough.

He needs more research.

For what feels like the thousandth time, Peter curses himself for leaving without his phone. Yeah, taking it back from Ross without permission would end up making his life literal hell at some point, but he needs access to the internet.

Being able to talk to his friends and foster siblings would also be great.

Peter can’t keep himself from groaning as he realizes that he’ll have to go back to the library to get more information. Usually, he’d love the library, but being caught sleeping in it was pretty embarrassing. Facing the librarian after that isn’t exactly Peter’s idea of a good time. 

Unfortunately, the issue is bigger than him at this point. The weapons are out there, and they’re dangerous.

Peter practically shudders as he remembers how Flo’s shop ended up, and that was just an accident. He doesn’t even want to imagine what could happen if someone gets ahold of the technology with the intent to cause harm.

He can only hope that Mr. Stark got his message. His phone is still in the drawer of Ross’s desk, so he has no way of knowing for sure. 

Peter doesn’t know why he’s so worried. Tony’s a superhero, he’s not going to let a petty grudge get in the way of saving lives.

To be honest, he’s more worried about Tony simply ignoring him.

Which, in any other circumstance, Peter would be totally fine with. He made a choice that the man didn’t like, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

The difference is that this situation puts countless people in danger. 

Yeah, maybe it was shitty of Peter to fly all the way to Germany and then refuse to fight, but his options all sucked. Go to Germany and fight for reasons he didn’t exactly understand, or have Tony Stark tell his abusive foster father where he goes every night when he sneaks out through the bathroom window. Neither choice is ideal.

Maybe he should go to Stark Tower to tell him in person, just to make sure. He can’t do this alone, and alerting Tony to the situation could save lives.

Peter exhales, gathering the papers and stuffing them back into the bag. He’ll patrol, but it’s unlikely that he’ll actually find anything-

He freezes as his spider sense practically screams at him, warning Peter of danger.

He looks around wildly, unable to tell what the problem is, until he finally glances out the window.

In the distance, his enhanced vision can barely make out a blue glow near the horizon, the exact same color as the laser that burned the flower shop to the ground. 

He’s never put on the Spider-Man suit so fast. 

Not bothering to close the window behind him, Peter leaps out of the building, using his webs to sail towards the light. 

He has a terrible feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I have to admit that I enjoyed writing Flash getting bashed for being classist a little too much.
> 
> Murph continues to be the MVP.
> 
> Seriously, you guys are the best. Your comments continue to give me life. 
> 
> My amazing beta is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting)!
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com)!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for hospitals and issues concerning food

Peter’s heart is practically in his throat as he swings towards the light. 

It’s the alien technology, it has to be. 

His stomach rumbles as he flies through the cool night air, and Peter’s beginning to regret his decision not to ask Mr. Delmar for a sandwich.

He pushes through, eyes narrowing as he gets closer to the light. 

Suddenly, he shoots a web, and it doesn’t attach to anything. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he realizes that he’s heading towards the suburbs, which means there’s nothing for him to swing on. 

He tumbles onto the ground, barely catching himself on his shaking arms, and starts running. 

Peter’s legs begin to burn almost immediately, but he can’t slow down. If people died because he couldn’t get there in time, Peter would never be able to forgive himself. 

He bounds through a golf course, desperate to get closer to the source of the light, and silently curses rich people’s need for empty fields of grass. Would a tree or two kill them? 

Running sucks, especially when Peter’s barely eaten anything all day.

He really has to get on that.

Peter’s entire body burns, cells seemingly screaming that they need fuel, but he has more important things to think about. 

He comes up to an underpass, and freezes when he sees a truck parked on the road. 

Peter silently jumps up onto the bridge, and tries to figure out what’s going on without alerting the men to his presence. 

There are a couple men, most of them scuttling around like mice in a kitchen, but one in particular catches Peter’s attention. He’s brandishing the biggest gun that Peter thinks he’s ever seen, a wicked grin on his face.

“Here, look at this,” he instructs the man standing next to him, widening his stance and pointing the gun at a nearby bush.

Peter’s spider sense spikes, and he has to muffle a gasp when the weapon practically vaporizes its target, leaving only fire in its wake.

“We’re demonstrating them in the open now?” one of the men complains under his breath before getting back to work.

“This is made of genuine Ultron vibranium,” the man ignores the complaint and continues, practically shoving the weapon into the other man’s hands. “Straight from Sokovia. Here, you try.”

Despite himself, Peter smiles. He was right, and now he knows where the people from the bank got their weapons.

The other man seems apprehensive, but Peter can’t help but think he’s seen him somewhere before.

Maybe he’s just going crazy. First James and Gwanda, but now this guy? Why does everyone Peter meets seem familiar?

“Why are you trying to upsell me, man,” the man holding the gun asks, the frown on his face growing. “I’m looking for something low-key, I don’t want to send anyone back in time.”

The other man nods eagerly, digging around in the back of the van. “We have what you need. Shockers, blasters, climbers-”

“Climbers?” The customer’s eyebrow raises, surprise evident in his tone. 

“Times are changing, man. We’re the only one selling these high-tech weapons.”

The man opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Peter’s stomach gives an almighty growl. 

“Did you hear that?”

Peter pales, pressing himself against the bridge. 

“Probably just an animal or something,” the worker dismisses. “Let’s get a move on, we shouldn’t stay here for too long-”

“No!” the man showing the weapons interrupts, fixing the customer with a dangerous glare. “Did you set us up?”

The man says nothing, and after a second of silence, Peter’s spider sense surges again.

“You set us up?” the man yells, brandishing a gun at the customer. 

Time seems to stop. Peter can’t sit here and watch someone get shot, it would be like May and Ben all over again. 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Peter jumps down from the bridge. “Hey, if you’re going to shoot at someone, shoot at me.”

Peter chuckles to himself. At least he can’t be hungry if he’s dead.

The man with the gun turns, milliseconds away from putting a bullet through Peter’s head, when he quickly knocks it away with a web. “No, that’s not fair,” he jokes, groaning as the men scramble to get in the van. 

“Come on! I’m not done with you guys,” Peter calls, shooting a web from each of his wrists and clinging onto the van for dear life. He can’t let the weapons get away, they could be dangerous-

Peter’s heart practically stops when he hears the van start. Maybe he didn’t think this all the way through. 

The asphalt scrapes his back and legs painfully, no doubt tearing holes through his homemade Spider-Man suit. That’s going to be a bitch to replace.

“Wait!” he yells, wincing as he slams into a car.

Just when he thinks things can’t get worse, the guy from before sticks his head out the back of the van.

Peter’s body fills with terror when he realizes that he’s holding the same high-tech gun as before. 

“Please!” He ducks as much as he can, the beam of energy just barely missing his head. The rational side of him is screaming to just let go, end the unbearable pain of being dragged behind a speeding van, but Peter can’t force himself to.

He’s so close, he just has to hold on for a little longer. 

Peter’s spider sense practically explodes into action, but by the time he looks up, it’s too late. One of the van doors is flying at his head, and when it collides with him, his feeble body is thrown off of the moving van like a rag doll. 

He desperately wants to lay there, nursing his various injuries, but he can’t. 

Peter forces himself to get up, ribs screaming in protest, and he sprints through the front yard of the house his body was discarded in front of.

He knows the road curves and comes back in the other direction, so he just has to cut through a few peoples yards to intercept the van. 

What’s a little bit of trespassing in the grand scheme of things?

Peter bursts through the wooden fence, wincing as he leaves a Peter-sized hole in someone else’s property. It’s fine, he tries to convince himself. He’s in the suburbs, these people can afford to repair their fences. 

A dog runs up to him, and the fact that he can’t stop to pet it breaks Peter’s heart. “I’m so sorry, I can’t play right now.”

He bursts through the fence on the other side of the property, and to his embarrassment, Peter finds himself in someone else's backyard. 

“Smells good,” he yells awkwardly at the man barbecuing, not stopping. He has to get to the road before the van does. 

He jumps over this fence, not wanting to break the man’s property when he’s standing right there. 

In the next yard, there’s a group of people watching a movie, but that’s not what first catches Peter’s attention. He breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that the next backyard has trees. “Nice movie,” he comments, swinging over the other side of the fence. 

Gracelessly, he lands on a tent. 

He struggles to get his bearings, but when he finally does, Peter’s face to face with two little girls. 

“Hey,” he tries, only to be met with eardrum-shattering screams from both kids. 

That’s fine, Peter thinks to himself. It’s not like he has time to stop and socialize anyway. 

He bursts through the last fence, clutching his ribs in pain.

The pain is forgotten when he’s met with the sight of the van. “Got you,” he whispers, chest warming in glee.

He caught the van. This is going to save so many people, he’s finally done something right-

Peter screams as something lifts him up into the air. He flails his limbs, but he keeps rising.

He cranes his neck, desperate to get a look at his assailant, but when he does, his fear doubles. 

Peter’s dangling from the talons of a man with metal wings. He has terrifying glasses, which obstruct his face enough that Peter has no idea what he looks like, and they’re soaring through the air.

“Put me down!” Peter demands, unsure if the man can even hear him over the sheer volume of the wind. “Please, you can’t-”

Suddenly, he’s falling. 

It’s a sensation that Peter’s never experienced before. Air whips his face as he plummets, head first, toward a lake. Every second brings him closer to the ground, and he can’t catch himself. 

When he finally hits the water, it feels like he’s been slammed into concrete. 

Peter rips his mask off, letting the heavy material sink to the bottom of the lake. 

He can’t see, but more importantly, he can’t breathe. The repurposed sweatsuit is weighing him down, and as much as Peter tears at it, he can’t get it off.

He thrashes desperately, unsure of which direction is up and which is down. 

Peter inhales a mouthful of water, choking on the bitter taste, and his need for oxygen makes him thrash harder. 

His head finally breaks through the surface, and breathing oxygen has never felt so good. 

Peter coughs, desperate to keep himself afloat. The world is slowly getting dark, but even in this state of mind, Peter knows he’ll die if he passes out in the middle of the lake. 

He thrashes some more, desperately trying to get to land. His arms and legs feel like jelly, and his chest burns. 

He’s so close, he just needs to go a little further. 

A little further-

The last thing Peter feels before he passes out is the sensation of course sand against his cheek.

\--------------

“That was so dangerous, Bucky!”

Steve’s hands are on his hips, and Bucky has to suppress a chuckle at how much Steve looks like his mother when he’s angry. 

“Steve, it was my fault-” Wanda chimes in, trailing off when Steve’s glare practically burns a hole in her head. 

“Like hell it is! You’re not the one who invited a fucking stranger to go to a dog park with you-”

“He was a kid!” Bucky yells, unable to take it anymore. “He was a lonely, hungry, and scared kid. Wanda thinks he’s enhanced, so of fucking course I tried to get more information. You would have done the same.”

“You risked our cover! I know you wanted to help, but I just can’t lose you again. You have to understand that.”

Bucky closes the space between him, and allows Steve to hold him. “You’re not, I promise. Just- you know how dangerous it is out there for enhanced people, Steve! We have to help.”

Steve’s expression softens. “Okay, you’re obviously pretty attached to this kid.”

“Not attached, just…” Bucky searches for the right word, but to Steve’s amusement, he can’t find it. “Okay, maybe I am attached, but you haven’t met him. He’s a good kid, you’d like him.”

“I bet,” Steve hums, wrapping his arms tighter around Bucky. “You said he was at the soup kitchen? Do you think he could be in trouble?”

Bucky shrugs. “He seemed okay to me, just quiet.”

“He was scared,” Wanda butts in awkwardly, catching the attention of both men. “I felt it. I think… it felt like he was safe in the moment, but there are threats looming over him.”

Steve frowns. “Okay, maybe we can try to keep an eye on him? Make sure he’s okay?”

“I don’t know how well we can do that in hiding, Steve,” Bucky points out, making Steve groan.

“I know, I’m trying my best. We just might have to lay low for a while, but Tony will come around eventually.”

“We can still try, though,” Bucky whispers, still not letting go of Steve. “We need to try. He needs us.”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face. “Yeah, Buck, we’ll do everything we can. I promise.”

\--------------

“We’re going to see Ben?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Yep,” May smiles. “We’re surprising him at his office, so you have to be on your best behavior, okay?”

Peter nods his head, and reaches for the lunchbox that his aunt has clutched in her hands. “Can I hold Uncle Ben’s lunch? I’ll be gentle with it, I promise!” 

May chuckles at her nephew’s enthusiasm as she complies with his request, placing the lunchbox in his small hands. 

“Hold my hand, baby,” she instructs. “We’re going to take the elevator all the way to the top.”

Peter gasps, clutching his aunt’s hand. “All the way up?”

“Yeah, that’s where Ben works.”

“Wow!” Peter exclaims, giggling in delight when the elevator doors ding open.

He hums to himself as the doors slide closed, and Peter squeezes his aunt’s hand tighter when he feels the elevator start to rise. 

He’s safe, May is here.

The elevator beeps every time it passes a floor, and the smooth tempo of the sound enthralls Peter. 

Beep.

Beep.

He smiles. Every beep brings him one floor closer to Ben. When Peter finally gets to the top, he’s going to give Ben his lunch, and he’ll wrap Peter in a hug.

As the beeps increase, so does Peter’s heart rate. He can’t wait to see his uncle. 

‘What are you guys doing here?’ he’ll ask, beaming at May. ‘This is such a wonderful surprise!’

Peter grins up at his aunt. They’re almost there, they have to be. There have been so many beeps already, so there can’t be many more to go. 

When the beeps stop, he’ll finally see his uncle. He can’t wait, it feels like there’s nothing he’s ever wanted more than to see Ben.

The beeps become more frequent, until they practically blend together into one horrible noise. Something’s not right, where’s Ben?

He looks up to his aunt, because May always knows what to do. She can fix it, and then the doors will open and reveal Ben. He’s sure of it. 

When he meets his aunt’s eyes, they’re full of tears.

Peter gasps, taking in the multiple bullet wounds littering her chest.

“May?”

The woman takes a shuddering breath, and glares at Peter with such hurt that he feels like it’s him who’s been shot.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” her accusing voice echoes through the elevator. “You could have saved us, Peter.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter chokes out, throat tight with tears. “I tried, I really did-”

“It wasn’t enough,” May hisses through her teeth. “You’ve never been enough, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Peter jerks awake to the sound of the heart monitor, tears running down his face. 

His entire body hurts, but less than before. 

A glance down shows him that his suit has been replaced with a hospital gown, which does little to slow his pounding heart. 

How many people saw his suit? Is his identity compromised? 

Despite the gravity of the situation, the question that Peter’s fixated on is arguably the least relevant. 

How could his brain use May’s memory like that?

During her life, she’d been nothing but kind. Maybe Peter was a burden, but even if he was, she was way too nice to actually say anything about it.

Is that really what he thinks of his dead aunt? He should be ashamed of himself. 

Peter sits up when the door to his room opens, and winces as his ribs ache.

“Wow, that was fast,” the nurse comments, scribbling something down on her clipboard. “We thought you’d be out for at least a few more hours.”

“Where-” Peter starts in a shaking voice, only to be cut off by a cough. “Where are my clothes?”

He stares at her, eyes wide, silently begging her to keep his identity a secret.

To Peter’s surprise, the woman wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know what you were doing before you fell in the lake, but your clothes were absolutely destroyed. We just threw them away, I think. Trust me, there’s no way you would have gotten any more use out of them with the state they were in.”

Peter sinks back into the hospital bed, chest filling with a rush of emotion.

Mostly, he’s relieved. The suit’s destroyed, yes, but that means that no one put two and two together. 

It’s also fucking terrifying. 

What’s he going to do? He has to make a new suit, obviously, but is he going back to Ross’s? Is he going back to the vacant apartment building?

Neither option is ideal.

Peter needs protection. He has no way of knowing how long he’d laid on the beach without his mask, so it’s entirely possible that the guy with wings already knows who he is.

He groans. The answer was so close, but he messed it up like always.

“What’s… happening?” he asks the woman, voice weak from lack of use. 

“Honey,” she fixes him with a tight smile. “You’re Peter Parker, right?”

Peter nods jerkily, and the way the nurses face contorts into a sympathetic expression does nothing to calm his nerves. “We had to call your foster father, he’s in the waiting room right now.”

He can’t keep his face from falling, even though he already knew what the answer would be.

“Of course, your social worker is also here. If you have any… issues, you could talk to her about your arrangement,” she says, eyeing the bruises littering Peter’s body.

“Oh, it’s not- he didn’t…” Peter sputters, arms reflexively flying to cover his exposed skin. “I was in a fight, he wouldn’t-”

Peter cuts himself off when the nurse begins to nod, relief evident in her expression. “He’s outside, would you like to see him?”

He nods, trying not to let his disappointment leak into his expression. Sure, Ross may not have been the one who put the bruises on his body, but he’s still not the first person he wants to see after nearly drowning. 

Oblivious to Peter’s inner turmoil, the nurse steps out of the room, returning seconds later with Ross.

“I’ll get the doctor, but your vitals are looking good.” She smiles kindly, but Peter can’t tear his eyes away from Ross’s terrifyingly blank expression. “If everything looks good, we should be able to discharge you.”

“Excellent,” Ross practically purrs, fixing the woman with a forced smile. “Thank you so much for taking care of my boy, I’m so glad he’s alright.”

Peter bristles at the phrase ‘my boy,’ but says nothing as the nurse exits the room.

“I don’t care where you’ve been,” Ross announces, breaking the awkward silence. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing. We can start over with a fresh slate, as long as you promise me you won’t run away like a pussy next time something goes wrong.”

Peter blinks. That definitely isn’t the response that he’d expected. 

“No more church group?” Peter asks slowly, still mentally preparing himself for a lecture on respect or a threat of punishment. 

Ross sighs. “Fine, whatever. Just- if anyone asks, you’ve been home the entire time. I don’t need this getting out.”

Peter nods, not wanting to give the man time to change his mind. “Are the other kids here?” 

“They’re at home. I figured I’d have a hard enough time keeping you from making a scene as it is.”

Peter decides not to respond to the thinly-veiled insult, instead plastering a wide smile on his face when the doctor knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Ross instructs brightly, putting on a smile to match Peter’s as she enters, followed closely by the nurse from before. 

“Hi, Peter.” The new doctor greets him with a smile, which Peter shakily returns. 

He can’t wait to go back to the house. 

“Everything looks great! This is actually one of the best cases we’ve seen here, you’re almost fully recovered already!”

Peter chuckles nervously, unsure of what to say.

Luckily for him, the woman doesn’t seem to expect an answer. “Any pain? Discomfort, tightness, difficulty breathing?”

Peter shakes his head, not totally trusting his voice, and the doctor hums. 

“Alright, once your dad fills out the paperwork, you should be good to go.”

Ross says something, but the only thing Peter can focus on is the word ‘dad.’

His dad was a million times better than Ross, but Peter supposes that being better than Ross isn’t exactly a difficult feat. Hearing the two men being compared makes Peter’s skin crawl.

“Okay, I’ll go fill out the paperwork,” Ross announces, resting a hand on Peter’s knee. “WIll you be okay waiting here?”

Resisting the urge to flinch away from the touch, Peter nods. 

“Oh, and Peter?” Ross lowers his voice just as he’s about to follow the doctor out. “We’ll be having a conversation about responsibility later.”

There it is.

Ross walks out as if he hasn’t just dropped a bomb on the boy, leaving Peter practically gasping for air.

He’ll get through it. He has to.

\--------------

Peter walks up the stairs to the house on shaky legs, only to be nearly pushed back down when a body slams into his.

“Fuck, Peter,” Gwen breathes, clinging onto the boy for dear life. “You can’t just leave like that! I was-”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Peter has to hold back tears when a surge of guilt hits him right in the chest. “Is everyone okay?”

He pulls away from her grasp when Ross clears his throat, obviously waiting to enter the house.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Gwen asks distractedly, leading Peter by the hand into the house behind Ross. 

Peter’s entire body relaxes at the assurance that they’re okay. “No reason.”

They walk to the kitchen, and Harry’s fork clatters to the ground when he spots his foster brother. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, wrapping Peter into his arms and resting his chin atop Peter’s head. 

“Here and there,” Peter dodges the question, sinking further into his brother’s arms. “Find a job yet?”

Harry makes a face. “No, mom.”

Peter chuckles. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this. 

His face brightens even more when he finally notices Miles sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey! It’s Miles!”

The kid shoots him a half-smile, obviously distracted by the fact that Ross is coming in and out of the kitchen, almost as if he’s setting something up.

Peter tries to keep his expression light, but he’s surprised that Miles is still there. From what Miles said, it seems like his uncle should have gotten custody days ago.

He doesn’t bring it up, not wanting to put the kid in an awkward situation, but he makes a mental note to ask Gwen about it later.

Suddenly, the realization hits Peter that he’s standing in a kitchen stocked with food. “How are we on food?” he asks Harry quietly. “Do we have enough for me to…”

“Yeah, we have a bunch,” Harry cuts him off, sharing a concerned glance with Gwen. “I bought groceries assuming you’d be here, and-”

“I wasn’t.” Peter finishes for him, reaching for a bowl. “Thank God, I’m fucking starving-”

“Not so fast.” Ross’s accusing tone immediately sucks the warmth and joy from the room, leaving cold fear in its wake. “This is the conversation I want to have.”

Peter gulps, slowly pulling his hand away from the bowl that he’d been millimeters away from grabbing. 

“You’ve been gone for a few days-”

“You said I had a clean slate,” Peter accuses, glaring at the man. It’s not like it’s his fault that he’s stuck with a homophobic asshole as a foster father.

Ross waives away Peter’s complaint with a soft snort. “This is a different issue, Peter. Frankly, if it weren’t for what I’m about to address, I wouldn’t have noticed that you were gone.”

It’s honestly pathetic that the statement hurts Peter as much as it does. 

“My issue,” Ross continues, “is that we’ve consumed about half as much food in these past few days as we did on days when you were here.”

Peter gulps.

How could he be this stupid? Obviously someone would have noticed his enhanced metabolism at some point, he should have been more careful.

“I, for one,” Ross snarls, “think it’s pretty selfish for one person to eat so much food. There’s no way you need that much.”

Peter wants to scream, but he can’t. He wants to argue, point out that Ross has enough money to buy them all the food they could ever need, but he has to keep his metabolism a secret. 

Honestly, he kind of sees the man’s point. If he’s telling the truth, that would mean that he eats as much as the three other kids combined. There’s no way he actually needs that much, he’s probably just used to overeating since he burns the calories so quickly. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes weakly. “I’ll do better, I promise-”

“That you will,” Ross interrupts. “And because I want you to succeed, to keep your promise, I think I’m going to help you out.”

The kids all stare at each other, and terror pools in Peter’s gut. This can’t be good.

“This is a bike lock,” he announces, holding up his hand, which does indeed have a bike lock coiled around it.”

“What’s it for?” Miles asks, voice shaking. 

A cruel grin makes its way onto Ross’s face, and Peter takes a reflexive step to place himself between Ross and the younger boy. 

“This,” the man says simply, and Peter watches in horror as he coils the bike lock through the handles of the fridge, and clicks the lock in place. “You will ask for my permission every time you want to take any of my food.”

“It’s not your fucking food!” Harry exclaims, shrinking back when Ross’s dangerous gaze lands on him. 

“Who owns this house?” the man asks, taking a slow step towards Harry. “As long as you’re under my roof, you’re under my rules.”

The rest of the kids breathe a collective sigh of relief when Harry nods silently.

Ross smiles, self-satisfied, and takes a step back. “You’re just lucky I don’t have enough bike locks for the cabinets,” he comments snidely as he stalks out of the kitchen, leaving the four kids in a stunned silence. 

His foster siblings seem more surprised than anything, but Peter feels like he’s about to cry. 

He already feels like he’s starving, and now he has to live on stale crackers and cereal or whatever the fuck they keep in the cabinets? Not to mention the fact that they have to split whatever they have between the four of them. 

Peter’s going to starve.

Gwen’s eyebrows furrow as she catches sight of the fear painting Peter’s face, and he does his best to shoot her a reassuring smile, but it ends up coming out more like a grimace.

Peter isn’t quite sure about himself, but he knows for a fact that Gwen, Harry, and Miles all deserve better than this.

He doesn’t know how long he can stand watching them being treated like animals, tiptoeing around the house as if there are threats behind each and every corner. 

What good is an enhancement if it doesn’t allow him to protect the people closest to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Ross is the scum of the earth, but as EnchantingWriting reminded me today, his first name is Thaddeus. I'm not saying that having a name like Thaddeus makes up for years of abusing children, but imagining him going through the American public school system as a kid with a name like Thaddeus is pretty entertaining. 
> 
> Comments never fail to put a smile on my face, and feedback is so helpful. Thank you to everyone who has commented, I promise that I cherish each and every one. Also, please let me know if you think I've missed any triggers in the beginning notes. 
> 
> My lovely beta is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting).
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for attempted physical abuse and threats of being kicked out

The kids don’t go to the church the next day, and aside from a side-eye from Miles and a grumble from Ross, no one says anything about it. 

Peter can’t help but worry that his own weakness--that is, his own inability to face his demons--is going to get another kid in trouble. That some kid is going to get hurt because puny Peter Parker is too scared to do anything.

He has to get to Skip before that happens. 

A part of him wants to go storm out the front door right now and find the man. Web him up, rip off his mask so Skip can see exactly who’s doing this to him, and punch him until his knuckles bleed. 

Maybe then he’ll finally come to know a sliver of the pain that he’s caused Peter in his lifetime. 

As appealing as it sounds, he can’t. Not without a plan, at least.

The click of a lock tears Peter from his fantasies, making his head whirl to find the source of the noise. 

The sight of Ross grabbing an apple from the refrigerator sends a wave of anger coursing through Peter’s body. 

“Okay, we’re not allowed to eat, but you can take whatever you want?” Harry complains, shooting a dirty glare at Ross. 

“Harry…” Gwen hisses, eyes darting between him and the man, but all four kids are surprised when Ross just chuckles. 

“I never said you can’t have food,” he says in between bites of his apple. “I just said you need my permission. 

Harry sputters. “Fuck you! I’m not going to ask permission to eat food that we paid for, you asshole-”

He’s silenced when Ross lunges at him, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt. “You’re really second-guessing my rules in my own home?” he sneers. “Must I remind you that you’re unemployed, and I’m not giving you a cent once you turn eighteen. That’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Wow, you remembered my birthday,” Harry spits. “You’re practically a real foster parent.”

Ross growls, smacking the boy upside the head. “I’m telling you this because I’m nice, okay? Keep your nose down, and find a damn job. You’ll need one.”

Peter watches in horror as Ross lets go of Harry, clicks the bike lock closed, and storms out. 

“You’re almost eighteen?” Gwen whispers one the door finally slams closed behind Ross. 

Harry nods, and Peter’s stomach drops. How could they forget Harry’s birthday? Of course he knew in the back of his mind that it was coming up, but with everything going on, he hadn’t processed it. 

“Shit, man,” Miles curses, running an anxious hand through his curls. “What are you going to do?”

Harry chuckles humorlessly. “My dad’s will made it so I didn’t inherit a cent of his fortune, so I don’t really know. I hear Subway is hiring, maybe I’ll apply there.”

“Harry,” Gwen groans, worrying the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “Why didn’t you tell us it was coming up? We- how much money do we all have saved up? It can’t be enough, but-”

“I’m not taking your money, Gwen,” Harry states flatly. “I’ll figure something out, there’s still a few weeks left before he can kick me out-”

Peter frowns. “You don’t have a plan? You can’t live on the streets long-term, Harry! You’ll die!”

“Says the one who jumped out of a window and didn’t come back,” Harry scoffs, the statement effectively draining whatever semblance of calm they had left out of the room. 

“I came back-”

“Not of your own free will! I swear to God, Peter, sometimes it seems like you don’t give a shit about anyone other than yourself.”

Peter’s eyes fill with tears. He chokes out, “You know that’s not true.”

“What the fuck, Harry?” Gwen pipes up, but Harry’s glare remains fixed on Peter.  
“I can’t survive on my own, but it’s fine for you to leave us for days on end? What’s with that?”

“That’s completely different,” he growls. “I didn’t have time to prepare. You knew this was coming! I’m so sorry that it slipped my mind, but I care about you, Harry. I need you to be okay.”

“To prepare for what?” Harry exclaims, startling Peter. “Was your breakup so bad that you had to run away? You have to admit that your reaction was pretty dramatic-”

“Breakup?”

Harry stares at Peter as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, with Skip. He came to the house right after you left. It was really fucking awkward.”

Peter pales. “Awkward like… did he do something weird?”

If anything happened to his foster siblings because Peter was too weak to suck it up and spend a summer with Skip, he’ll never forgive himself.

“No, just surprised not to see you,” Harry says. “He seems like a dick so I’m not saying you shouldn’t have dumped him, but do you seriously think running away was a rational reaction?”

Peter freezes, unsure of what to say. He can’t tell the truth, he’s just gotten out of the whole mess. 

“Harry…” Gwen warns, sharing an awkward glance with Miles. 

“Skip just came here and left? Nothing else?”

Relief floods through Peter’s entire body when Gwen nods slowly. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he chokes out, turning to Harry. “You’re right, I guess I did overreact.”

Harry offers him a small smile. “Hey, I know you wouldn’t just leave like that for no reason. We were all worried about you.”

Peter’s heart melts at the admission.

“Hey,” Harry chuckles, “I’m actually really glad you decided to stop fucking him. I know you can take care of yourself and everything, but he was pretty old for you.”

Peter has to suppress a shudder, shrinking into himself as all three of his foster siblings stare at him. “Yeah,” he chuckles weakly, desperate to change the subject. “Do you guys think Ross would notice if I take my phone back? I don’t know if he remembers that he took it away, and I don’t really want to ask him.”

Harry furrows his brows at the sudden change in subject, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Gwen advises, shooting him a strange glance. “He’s kinda power crazy right now, don’t you think? Direct disobedience definitely won’t go over well.”

Peter hums in agreement, but before he can respond, Harry frowns.

“Speaking of the self-obsessed fuck,” he starts, storming into the kitchen with a quick gesture signalling his siblings to follow. “We have to figure out what to do with this.”

The kids stare at the locked refrigerator, and it’s all Peter can do to choke back the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so hungry.

“The cabinets aren’t locked,” Miles points out. 

Gwen’s face breaks out into a grin. “You’re right, we should have more than enough to last until we can go to the store.”

Harry scoffs, but even his lips are curled up into a small smile. “This is bullshit, I can’t believe we’re not allowed to use the fucking refrigerator. Like, how does this even benefit Ross?”

“I don’t know,” Gwen chuckles. Peter’s too preoccupied with his own hunger to try to answer Harry’s question.

When he opens the cabinet, his stomach drops.

The amount of food he’s met with would probably be enough for them to live off of for a few days if he didn’t have an enhanced metabolism. It would have been tight, but they could have made it work.

Unfortunately for Peter, he burns through food three times as fast as a regular human being.

It’s just not going to work.

“This is plenty!” Miles exclaims, relief evident in his expression. 

Peter smiles, trying to ignore the dread brewing in his stomach. “Yeah, and I can just eat at work, too.”

Harry elbows Peter in the side, good-naturedly. “Always so noble, Parker. You know, you deserve to eat here just as much as the rest of us.”

“I know,” Peter promises. “It’s just more convenient that way. Besides, we don’t know how long Ross is going to keep this shit up.”

Even though none of them want to admit it, Peter’s right.

“I know you always tell me this,” he continues, “but you deserve to be happy, too. You deserve better than this, Harry.”

Harry chuckles humorlessly. “Since when has life ever given us what we deserve?”

\---------------

Peter takes a deep breath as he knocks on the door in front of him. 

He wants to turn back. This was a terrible idea, and he’d be better off at home with Gwen, Harry, and Miles. 

He can’t. Peter hasn’t been in contact with either of his friends in days, and if he can’t call them, he has to do it the old-fashioned way. 

Even though the old-fashioned way sucks. 

Before he has the chance to turn back, the door swings open.

“Hey, Mrs. Leeds,” Peter stutters awkwardly, unprepared for the very real possibility that he’d be met with Ned’s mother instead of the boy himself. “Is Ned home?”

The woman looks him up and down, brows furrowed in confusion. “He didn’t tell me that you were coming over-”

“I know,” Peter interrupts, blushing. “I’m sorry. I was just… in the neighborhood, and I thought it might be fun to say hi. It’ll just take a second, I promise.”

Mrs. Leeds frowns, and Peter curses himself. They both know that it takes a solid twenty minutes to get to Ned’s apartment complex from Ross’s house, but instead of acknowledging his own lie, Peter stands awkwardly in the doorway. 

After what feels like an eternity, the woman sighs and yells, “Ned! Peter’s here!”

Sheer joy floods Peter’s brain as his best friend bounds to the door with a huge grin on his face, sock-sliding the last five feet until he’s face-to-face with Peter. 

Mrs. Leeds smiles, shaking her head at her son’s antics. “Just a few minutes,” she reminds the boys, padding back to the living room. “Ned has chores.”

“Where have you been?” Ned asks, hurt obvious in his shining eyes. “I texted you, like, a bazillion times!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes, rubbing a sheepish hand along the back of his neck. “Ross took my phone away, I swear I’d never ignore you like that on purpose.”

Ned frowns. “Aw, dude, that sucks. What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Peter answers truthfully. “To be honest I think he’s just on some kind of power kick right now, it’ll be over soon.”

“Are you guys… okay?” Ned asks carefully, worry painting his face. 

Peter nods quickly. “We’re fine. It’s… fine.”

The boys awkwardly stare at each other until Peter finally pipes up, “Well, I should probably go. I don’t want your mom to get mad at you-”

“No!” Ned interrupts. “It’s- will you at least stay for a few more minutes? I haven’t seen you so long, dude. I miss you.”

Peter cringes.

Of course he misses Ned, but pissing off his mom would only mean that he’d see his friend less. “I should really…”

“C’mon,” Ned pushes him. “How about a sandwich? Just stay for lunch, and then you can go.”

Peter should say no. It’s honestly pathetic that he’s resorting to stealing food from Ned’s family’s mouths, but it’s just too tempting. 

He nods tentatively, stomach sinking in shame.

“Great,” Ned smiles, gesturing for Peter to follow him to the kitchen. “Is peanut butter and jelly okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter answers, awkwardly sliding into a chair. 

A few seconds of silence pass while Ned makes the sandwich, but there’s one thought that Peter can’t get out of his head. 

“You know that I value you, right?”

Ned blinks, handing Peter the sandwich. “...Yeah? Peter, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Peter dismisses. “Just, I know I’m a bad friend sometimes, and you really do deserve better. It’s not fair of me to disappear like that.”

“It wasn’t your choice,” Ned sighs. “Seriously, you don’t have to apologize for things that you have no control over.”

Peter wants to argue, but his mouth is full of peanut butter.

At least the sandwich means he can leave food in the cabinets for his foster siblings.

\--------------

Peter’s walk home is pretty uneventful. 

Annoyingly long, sure, but it was worth it to see Ned. 

He’s halfway up the steps to the porch when he remembers that Ross doesn’t like coming home to a full mailbox, and that he still needs his phone back. 

Sighing, he hops down the stairs, and absentmindedly sweeps the stack of letters from the mailbox. He thumbs through them as he jogs back up the stairs, but when he gets to one particular envelope, Peter freezes.

It’s thick, addressed to Gwen, and the return address reads ‘Midtown Tech.’

“Gwen!” Peter practically screams, slamming the door open. “Get over here right now.”

He sprints into the house, and almost collides with his three foster siblings as they bolt to the door. “What the fuck is it?”

Instead of answering, Peter hands her the envelope, and Gwen’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God!” Her hand flies to cover her mouth.

“Open it already,” Harry goads her, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet. 

She shakes her head, nervous tears sparkling in her eyes. “I can’t, I can’t-”

“I can,” Miles smirks, grabbing the envelope from her. 

Time seems to stand still as he tears it open, unfolding the piece of paper inside. 

“Dear Ms. Stacy, I hope this letter finds you well,” Miles reads while Gwen, Harry, and Peter all hold their breath. “Blah blah, boring stuff-”

Gwen whacks him in the arm. “Get to the point.”

“...We are pleased to inform you that your request for a full-ride scholarship to Midtown Tech has been accepted!”

Gwen squeals and wraps Miles in a hug. “Thank you!”

“You know, I wasn’t actually the one who gave you the scholarship,” Miles quips, but he hugs her back anyway. 

“Fuckin’ finally,” Harry mutters. “It’s about time. When did you put in the application? A year and a half ago?”

Peter embraces Gwen once she finally lets go of Miles, ignoring Harry’s complaint. “You’re going to be the smartest kid there, Gwen. I’m calling it now.”

“Hey, I heard there’s good money to be made in doing other people’s homework, Parker,” Gwen giggles. “We’ll be rich.”

“Sure,” Harry scoffs, but even he can’t hide the happiness he feels at his foster sister’s joy. 

Gwen releases Peter, grinning widely. “I can’t believe it.” 

“Maybe I can show you around this summer,” Peter muses. “They’re open for class registration, and I’m sure we can fit in a quick tour.”

Gwen gasps. “Peter, we should sign up for the same classes! That would be so much fun.”

“You’re right,” Peter beams. “I have a schedule that I planned for myself, you can see if the classes look good to you. There are so many options, it’s crazy.”

Harry smiles. “How does it feel knowing that you won’t be the smartest kid in school anymore?”

Miles waggles his eyebrows teasingly at Harry’s question, and Peter has to hold back a chuckle. 

“Pretty fucking fantastic,” he admits, silently basking in Gwen’s joy.

\--------------

The rest of their day is great. 

Gwen is ecstatic, and her enthusiasm is contagious. 

The dinner they have to pull together with crackers and dry cereal leaves much to be desired, but the mood doesn’t truly break until the front door slams open, and Ross steps over the threshold. 

The fact that the man chuckles when he’s met with the sight of his four foster kids eating crackers for dinner makes Peter’s stomach churn. 

“Long day?” Ross teases, setting his briefcase down beside the door. 

“Gwen’s scholarship got approved for Midtown,” Peter deadpans, but Ross just hums, not really paying attention. 

Instead of answering Peter and congratulating Gwen, he turns and asks Harry, “did you get a job today?”

Harry makes a face. “How do you think getting a job works? It’s hard, I’m working on it.”

“Luckily for you,” Ross smirks, “I have a solution.”

An apprehensive air falls over the table, but when Ross pulls a pamphlet from his suit pocket, the apprehension turns to collective horror. 

“You want me to join the fucking army?”

Ross’s brows furrow at Harry’s tone, but he doesn’t reprimand him. Instead, he nods. “The army would be my first choice, but the marines or air force would be acceptable as well. As long as you can leave for basic before you turn eighteen-”

“This is about me turning eighteen?” Harry exclaims, shooting up from his seat. “Look, kick me to the curb once I age out, I don’t care. I’m not joining the army because you think I should.”

“This isn’t about you,” Ross snarls. “I’m still not out of the woods, and we have no idea where Steve Rogers is hiding. What’s it going to look like if my ward is homeless?”

“Like you’re a shit foster parent,” Peter mutters, warranting a glare from Ross. 

“Look, I don’t care if you drop out of basic, but you have to go. I don’t know why you’re so hesitant. Knowing you, I thought you wouldn’t care.”

Harry’s practically seething with anger, and it’s all Peter can do not to get up and comfort his foster brother. “You know nothing about me.”

“But he can’t even join until he’s eighteen, right?” Miles cuts in, fear in his eyes. 

Gwen sighs. “With parental permission, he can join at seventeen”

“You still can’t force him to join the military.” Peter glares daggers at Ross, and Harry’s shaking form is enough to bring tears to his eyes. “That’s crazy!”

“What else are you going to do with your life?” Ross exclaims, his sheer volume making Peter flinch back. “I’ve seen your report card, it’s either this or flipping burgers, and apparently you can’t even do that right.”

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters, storming to their shared bedroom.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gwen asks Ross, tears running down her face. 

Ross sighs, shaking his head as if Gwen is a stubborn child. “I’m giving him options. I’m the only one in his life who is being honest with him about his prospects. It’s not like the little shit could ever get into college.”

Wordlessly, Gwen storms to the bedroom, with Peter and Miles hot on her heels. 

In the bedroom, they find Harry sitting on his bed, face eerily blank. 

“Harry…” Peter starts tentatively, unsure of what to say. He steps into the room, allowing his foster siblings to enter as well, and the room feels even more cramped than usual. 

“I have to go,” Harry says coldly, not taking his eyes off of the wall in front of him.

Gwen gasps. “Harry, that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. You don’t have to go join the army just because-”

“No,” Harry interrupts her. “I have to leave. I- I can’t go into the military, Gwen.”

He turns to look at them, eyes glistening with tears. “I have a friend who said I could crash on her couch, at least it’ll be better than this dump.”

Peter wants to argue.

He wants to beg Harry not to go, to say that there has to be another option, but they all know that would be a lie. 

“Well, now I know how you felt when you watched me run away,” Peter jokes, smiling as he coaxes a small giggle from Harry. 

“Yeah, well,” Harry waves off Peter’s unspoken apology. “I don’t know why this is so hard, we all knew I’d end up couch-surfing my way through my 20’s. It just came a few months earlier than I expected.”

Gwen frowns. “Don’t say that about yourself, this isn’t your fault.”

Harry offers her a small smile. “I know.”

“I’ll miss you,” Miles says, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. “When will you leave?”

Harry shrugs. “I should give Lily some warning that I’m coming, so maybe tomorrow? I’m not really sure.”

“Lily,” Gwen repeats, mouth curling into a mischievous smirk. “Why haven’t we heard about her before?”

“Shut up!” Harry blushes, glancing around the room for an excuse to change the subject. “It kinda sucks that I’m going to live my last few days here hungry as fuck. Like, I won’t be here to see the other side of this whole food-control craze.”

Peter frowns. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

The idea of Harry going hungry when he’s literally about to run away brings angry tears to Peter’s eyes. 

Suddenly, an idea pops into his head. 

“Wait here,” he instructs, creeping out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. 

The logical side of Peter is yelling at him to turn back, but the blood pounding in his ears makes it impossible for him to think rationally. 

Who the fuck does Ross think he is?

Peter tiptoes into the kitchen, and sighs in relief when he sees that Ross isn’t there.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he rummages through the drawers until he finds what he’s looking for.

He turns the kitchen knife over in his hands, stopping for a second to contemplate his actions. 

Ross can be terrifying, but it’s worth it in the long run. Harry deserves it.

Peter just hopes that Ross’s anger won’t affect any of the other kids too much. 

Pushing all other hesitation from his mind, Peter picks up the bike lock, and inspects the cord. It’s pretty thin, but there’s no way he’ll be able to replace it before Ross notices that something’s up. 

He sighs, sawing through the cord with the dull kitchen knife. 

Fuck it.

Ross is going to lose his temper at some point, and he might as well get his ass beaten with a full stomach. 

The cord snaps, and Peter silently opens the refrigerator. 

Looking at the shelves fully stocked with food sends a new surge of fury through his very bones.

Peter begins to fill his arms with food, trying to pay attention to which items would stay good for the longest amount of time.

Milk is a no-no, but the leftover spaghetti from last week is looking pretty appealing. 

When he finally has an armful of food that he’s confident won’t expire right away, Peter clicks the fridge shut with his foot, wincing when it makes a sound. 

He scurries back to the bedroom, and his foster siblings watch in awe as he triumphantly deposits the spoils of his labor onto Harry’s bed. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Gwen asks, trying her best to look angry while her mouth waters at the sight of the pile of food. 

Harry just smiles. “Fuck, yes!”

Peter chuckles. “Just get it into the closet before Ross comes to murder me.”

Miles practically runs to shove the food into the closet, evidently taking Peter’s words literally.

Which is probably a good thing, seeing as Peter himself isn’t sure if he’s joking or not. 

“You know what would really make this great?” Harry muses, warranting a panicked glance from Miles. “Ice. I haven’t had ice water in so long.”

“Harry, I’m not sure-” Gwen starts, but Peter waves her off.

“Coming right up,” Peter chirps, practically skipping back to the kitchen.

He knows that he definitely won’t be this enthusiastic about his rule-breaking once the adrenaline wears off, but ice does sound heavenly. 

Peter cracks the freezer open, about to scoop up a cupful of ice cubes, when the sound of dress shoes clicking on tile makes his heart drop.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Ross’s voice sends a chill across Peter’s body that has nothing to do with the open freezer. “Ice…” he stammers pitifully. 

“Close the damn freezer,” Ross orders, a scowl on his face. 

Peter goes to obey the command, but something stops him. 

He’s terrified, yes, but he also can only see red. 

Instead of closing the freezer, Peter scoops up the largest cupful of ice he’s ever seen. 

“You little shit!” Ross yells, and the telltale sound of his belt being slid from his belt loops echoes through the kitchen. 

Before Peter even knows what he’s doing, he’s running.

He’s sprinting out of the kitchen, Ross hot on his heels with his belt in hand.

His spider sense screams, warning him of the imminent danger, but all Peter can think about is the fact that he’s never seen Ross run before. 

He slams the bedroom door open, thrusts the cup of ice into Harry’s hands, and pauses. 

Peter turns, locking eyes with Ross for a split second. The rage he finds is almost animalistic, and the buckle of the belt swinging from the man’s hand glints under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

He should stay. He’s the one who broke the rule, and now he has to live with the consequences. 

The issue is, he doesn’t want to.

They shouldn’t have to live like this. Peter realizes that they don’t exactly have a normal family dynamic, but he’s come to cherish what they have. 

In the rare event that Ross decides to take his anger out on someone else, Peter would never forgive himself.

However, he can’t force himself to stay either. He’ll come back, of course, but he needs to take a walk. To allow the situation to cool off.

That’s how Peter found himself jumping out of the bedroom window for the second time in one short week, only this time with Ross screaming obscenities at him from the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yeah, Peter! Stick it to the man!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this chapter, I really hope you enjoyed it. Your comments are always amazing, and reading them always brightens my day, so thanks! I absolutely love hearing what you think, and what your opinions are about the characters and the plot. You're all the best!
> 
> My wonderful beta is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting)!
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com)!


	12. Chapter 12

Sitting on the curb in front of the house, Peter can’t help but feel like he’s right back where he was a week ago. 

Of course, it’s different because he’s not running away this time, but his pride won’t allow him to go back in just yet. 

That, and the locked front door. Naturally, he could always enter through the unlocked bedroom window, but the fact that Ross went out of his way to lock the door after Peter bolted really speaks louder than any words would ever be able to.

Peter waits for time to pass, picking at the grass aimlessly. He can hear what’s going on inside the house, and he’s relieved to know that Ross has calmed down.

He’d never be able to forgive himself if one of his foster siblings gets in trouble because he’s not there to take the fall. 

The muffled sound of the evening news being turned on pulls Peter from his thoughts, quickly grabbing his attention. 

“A sighting of a man with wings has been reported just outside Midtown,” the reporter announces in a light tone. “You heard me correctly, folks. A man with wings.”

A woman laughs. “You’re serious, Charles?”

“Unfortunately, I am. We’re unsure if this report was a joke, or if the witness has some kind of mental disorder. Wherever they are, we hope they’re healthy, and we’d like to use this as a reminder to the general public that our anonymous tip line is only to be used in emergencies.”

The pair chuckle again, the subject quickly leaving the winged man, but Peter’s already off.

He runs toward the nearest subway station, adrenaline pumping through his body. 

The cool night air whips Peter’s face, and the boy finally realizes what’s missing in the equation. His Spider-Man suit is in some hospital dumpster.

Silently cursing, Peter stops in the middle of the sidewalk and looks around wildly for a solution.

He groans as a glittery masquerade-style mask catches his eye from the corner of a stand. Is he seriously stooping to this level?

Before Peter has time to stop and think, he’s on the subway, a sparkly mask clutched in his hand.

Superheroes have worn worse things, Peter muses. At least the mask has glitter.

Even though it's pretty difficult to look at the bright side of the situation, Peter figures it was about time for an upgrade.

The train lurches to a stop, and Peter sprints through the station, desperate to get there before it’s too late. 

He bursts outside, but to his surprise, he’s met with nothing. 

No catastrophic world-ending events, just regular people going about their lives.

Peter frowns. There has to be something going on, it doesn’t make sense for everything to be okay. The person with wings is the same one who dropped him in the lake last night, he has to be.

Sliding the glittery mask onto his face, Peter scans the area. It’s no use, he can’t see anything from here. What he needs is a better vantage point. 

The course bricks are somehow soothing on his calloused hands as he climbs the nearest building. The wind runs through his hair like fingers, it’s soft touch a constant reminder that Peter’s doing this with only a flimsy mask protecting his identity.

He peers down at the cars when he finally gets to the top, marvelling at how much smaller they look from so high up.

Suddenly, a truck catches his attention. It’s black and somewhat nondescript, and Peter wonders what it’s carrying.

It looks like the kind of toy trucks he used to play with as a kid. 

He loved those trucks until he was about seven years old, and became suddenly aware of the fact that trucks could crash. He remembers asking May if they could walk everywhere instead of taking Ben’s rusty car.

He remembers how May’s expression dropped as if it were yesterday. 

“Honey,” she’d explained, “bad things happen sometimes, but it’s very unlikely that they’ll happen to us, okay? We’ll be fine, I promise you.”

Of course, having just lost his parents, Peter had known subconsciously that some bad things were inevitable, but he nodded anyway.

“It’s no use worrying over what could happen, Petey,” she’d smiled. “Everything will find a way to work itself out, and while it does, your job is to enjoy life as much as you can.”

Of course, she and Ben would both be dead a mere six years later, but she didn’t know that at the time. 

Peter’s pulled from his thoughts by a faint whirring, almost too soft for even his enhanced hearing to pick up. 

It gets gradually louder, and once he sees where it’s coming from, his heart practically stops. 

The man with the mechanical wings is swooping down, seemingly aiming for the black truck that caught Peter’s eye in the first place. 

Without a second thought, Peter slides down the wall, wincing as the abrasive brick rubs roughly against his fingertips. 

He’d kill for his web shooters.

Peter sprints toward the road, ignoring the symphony of honking that his presence is met with, and tries his best to catch up with the truck.

Peter groans. This is going to be a nightmare without his webs.

He grabs onto the back of a car, hanging on for dear life as it speeds along, swerving when the driver feels the boy’s presence. 

When the driver lays on the horn, Peter jumps to another car, and starts the process all over again. 

A few cars later, the truck is within viewing distance, 

It’s so close, he just has to go a bit farther. 

Peter winces as he propels himself to the next car, and the honking is starting to become deafening. 

In a leap of faith, Peter jumps from the car, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sticks to the solid metal of the truck.

Taking a second to survey the situation, Peter realizes that the winged man beat him here. 

That makes sense, of course, seeing how the man could fly. Still, it’s a blow to his ego.

What’s stranger, however, is how there is a square of purple on top of the truck, and no winged guy to be seen.

Peter crawls to the top of the truck, the wind stinging his face and hands, and peers into the shining hole at the winged man. He’s rummaging through some kind of box, but Peter’s still too caught up on the purple thing.

It seems to be a portal to the inside of the truck, and if Peter wasn’t so focused on holding onto the top of the truck for dear life, he’d be turning the idea over in his head and trying his hardest to figure out how the hell it’s able to do that. 

Peter gasps as the figure in the back of the truck turns and locks eyes with him.

He presses himself flatter against the metal, praying that the man didn’t see him, but all hope is abandoned when the whir of his wings signals that he’s coming up to meet Peter. 

The boy clutches his mask, which is now threatening to blow away in the wind, and stares in horror as the man flies out from the truck.

“Spider-Guy?” the man questions, obviously confused by the lack of a costume, but his voice immediately launches Peter into fight-or-flight mode. 

In a leap of desperation, Peter finds his worn sneaker buried in the man’s face, making a solid ‘crack’ as it makes contact. 

Peter’s spider sense flares, and before he’s able to process what’s going on, he’s dodging a swoop from the man’s wings. 

Seizing his opportunity, Peter grabs one of the wings, pulling until it feels like something important breaks. 

“You little shit,” the man curses, catching Peter off guard with a punch to the face.

The sting is unsettlingly familiar. 

Cold air agonizingly stings the now-forming bruise on Peter’s eye, and he clutches his face in pain.

Suddenly, reality hits. 

The wind is hitting his sore eye. He doesn’t feel a mask acting as a barrier. 

Peter pats his face down desperately, and feels a small part of himself die when he realizes that he’s standing in front of the winged man without anything protecting his identity.

What has he done?

Peter can’t move. He registers the fact that the man is pushing him, but he doesn’t come back to himself until he falls through the square portal, colliding harshly with the floor inside the truck.

His spider sense practically screams. The man can’t get away, he’s so close! Peter won’t be able to forgive himself if people die because he’s too inept to stop a criminal that’s literally three feet away from him.

Anyone else would have solved this issue by now. 

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Peter springs up, desperate to catch the man before he can get away. 

He leaps up, realizing a split second too late that the portal above him is gone. 

Peter’s head slams against the top of the truck, and the world goes black. 

\--------------

When Peter comes to, the world is pitch dark around him. 

For a few seconds, he thinks he must still be unconscious, but he jumps up when the events of the night hit him in a wave. 

He must still be inside the truck.

When his eyes finally begin to adjust to the darkness, Peter can start to make out walls and a floor.

Sheer panic floods his system at the sudden realization that it’s entirely possible that he’s stuck in some kind of evil lair. 

After he passed out, who knows what happened? It’s more than likely that the man with the mechanical wings was successful in hijacking the truck, if that was even what he was trying to do.

Peter was right there, and was still powerless to stop it. 

A part of him registers that he should be grateful that the man didn’t kill him while he was unconscious and dump his body in a ditch, but there are more important things for him to think about. 

Namely, getting out of the truck without alerting anyone that could be around him to his presence. 

Also, the man fucking saw his face. 

Panic fills Peter’s body at the reminder. That’s the one thing he promised himself wouldn’t happen, and he messed it up. 

His life could very well be over. If his identity were to get out, everything would change. 

A selfish part of him thinks it might not be too bad. He’d finally get the recognition that he’s craved for years, and he could put Skip six feet underground without anything to lose.

Rationally, neither of those things would ever make up for the countless negative sides of revealing his identity, but Peter can’t blame himself for dreaming. 

Unfortunately for him, there are more important things he should be focusing on. Particularly, whether or not the truck he’s in is surrounded by armed criminals who want nothing more than to end his life.

Peter pauses for a second and listens for movement, but he can’t hear anything. 

He decides that it’s better to just bite the bullet. There’s no way he’s getting out of here quietly, and it’s now or never. Who knows when the man with wings will be back?

Mentally preparing himself for a fight, Peter balls his fists and kicks the back door of the truck as hard as he can. 

He loses his balance, tumbling out and landing unceremoniously in a heap on the cold concrete flooring.

As soon as he’s able to figure out which way’s up, Peter stands, holding his fists in front of him protectively. 

Instead of the mob of criminals he’d been expecting, he’s met with an overwhelmingly large room.

Peter pauses for a second, allowing his heart rate to slow. 

Did the truck actually get to where it was supposed to go? He supposes it’s a good thing if it did, since that means the man gave up, but he has no idea where the truck was going.

He could be anywhere.

Peter’s head starts to spin. He can’t stay here, he has to get home. After his botched escape last week, it doesn’t seem like being away overnight without an explanation will go over all too well. 

Looking at the door, it’s starting to seem like Peter doesn’t have a choice in the matter. 

It’s solid steel, and it looks as if it could be inches thick. Wherever it is, it sure as hell is secure. 

A small silver plaque catches Peter’s eye, but when he goes to inspect it, his stomach drops. 

It reads, ‘Damage Control Deep Storage Unit.’

Peter remembers learning about this place. If he remembers correctly, it means he’s literally in the most secure building on the eastern seaboard.

After pacing for a moment, panicked fingers running up and down his arms, Peter freezes. 

Tears prick his eyes as the vital fact of the facility’s location pops into his head. 

He’s in fucking Washington DC.

“This is going to be impossible to explain to Ross,” Peter mumbles to himself, chuckling humorlessly as his soft voice echoes through the enormous warehouse. 

\--------------

Hours later, the doors open. 

When they finally do, Peter’s off faster than a girl’s dress on prom night, as Skip would say. 

Pushing the thought of the man from his head, Peter runs. The sight of the sunrise makes his stomach turn, and he speeds up, desperate to get home as soon as possible. 

He has to get all the way back to New York. How the fuck is he going to do that?

Peter still doesn’t have his phone, but it’s not like there’s anyone for him to call. Ross would probably laugh in his face, and neither Peter nor Gwen have a car.

The next thing Peter’s mind jumps to is the train. There are trains from DC to New York, but he doesn’t have the money for a ticket.

Peter groans. The train is pretty much his only option, so he makes his way toward the nearest station, cursing his Parker luck all the while. 

Thankfully, the station is pretty crowded when he gets there, so it’s easy enough for him to slip past the ticket booth unnoticed. Peter’s always hated his height, but even he has to admit that being short has its perks. 

Specifically, if he stays near families with children, it’s easy for him to pass himself off as being just another kid.

He studies the train schedule, and has to restrain himself from breaking out into a grin when he sees that he’s gotten there just in time for the next train to New York. 

Peter boards the train after triple-checking that it’s the right one, taking a seat near the window. 

He pulls his hood lower over his eyes, and sinks down into his seat.

The events of last night are still bouncing around in his head, the horror of knowing that a stranger knows his true identity still lingering.

All he can do is hope that he’s actually able to succeed next time. God knows he’s had way too many failed attempts at solving the alien-weapons issue.

Peter stares out the window, marvelling at how fast the scenery flies past. If he ignores the seat beneath him, he can almost convince himself that he’s swinging back to New York.

The reminder that his web shooters are somewhere at the bottom of a lake does little to brighten his mood. 

Peter sighs, pressing his palms over his eyes. 

Why does his life have to be such a mess?

\--------------

Peter swallows, anxiously wringing the hem of his shirt between his fingers as he climbs the steps to Ross’s house. 

He’s exhausted. The people around him made it impossible for Peter to get any sleep on the train, which means the only sleep he’s gotten in the past twenty-four hours was when he was knocked unconscious. 

Peter rattles the doorknob, only to find it locked. 

It’s all he can do not to burst into tears right then and there. 

Dejectedly, Peter drags himself down the steps, and around to the bedroom window. He sighs in relief when it slides open easily, silently thanking his foster siblings for leaving it unlocked for him. 

He slips into the bedroom, fully intending to drop onto his bed and crash for as long as he could, but a gasp from the doorway stops him in his tracks. 

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Gwen’s hissed question makes Peter wince, and he wraps her in a tight hug instead of answering. “Is everyone okay? Ross didn’t…”

The tension Peter’s been unconsciously holding in his body releases when Gwen shakes her head. 

“Oh my God, I’m so glad,” Peter breathes. “I’m so sorry for leaving like that-”

“Again,” Gwen cuts in. 

“...Again, right,” Peter winces. “I shouldn’t have left you guys alone with him in that state, something bad could have happened.”

“It’s fine,” Gwen tells him. “You’re not our protector or some shit, Peter. Miles and I can take care of ourselves.”

Peter offers her a small smile, before doing a double-take when he fully processes her statement. “And Harry?” he chuckles, expecting Gwen to make a joke at Harry’s expense.

Instead, she frowns. “He went with you, right?”

Panic floods Peter’s system. “No,” he chokes out, stomach sinking when Gwen’s face morphs into one that mirrors his own inner horror. “He’s not here?”

“I thought he went with you,” Gwen whispers, hand flying to cover her mouth. “You’re- you’re not joking? ‘Cause, Peter, this isn’t fucking funny-”

“I’m not joking,” Peter assures her. 

“Shit,” Gwen swears, nervously twirling a lock of her hair with her finger. “Do you think he’s okay? Where the fuck-”

“What’s wrong?”

Gwen and Peter both jump at Miles’s question.

“Harry isn’t with Peter,” Gwen explains, causing Miles’s eyes to fill with confusion. 

“Where is he?” Miles asks, cocking his head ever so slightly. 

“I don’t know,” Peter sighs. “Maybe he’s at his girlfriend’s house? Lucy or whatever?”

Despite herself, Gwen chuckles. “Lily,” she corrects him. “It seems like he’d tell us that he was leaving, right?”

Peter frowns. “Yeah, that is weird. Did you check your phone?”

“Of course I checked my phone, dumbass. Did you check yours?”

“I can’t, it’s in Ross’s room.”

Miles quirks an eyebrow. “Still?”

“Yeah,” Peter chuckles. ”I haven’t exactly had the opportunity to ask for it back.”

“He’s not home,” Gwen points out. “Just go and get it. I’m sure he forgot.”

Peter cringes. The idea of doing something that could most definitely get him into trouble is almost agonizing, and Gwen must know that. 

“Okay,” Peter surrenders. “I’ll go check.” 

Peter makes his way to Ross’s bedroom, and the knowledge that the man isn’t home makes it feel like a weight has been removed from his chest. 

The sight of the all-too-familiar bedroom makes Peter’s skin crawl.

Suppressing the almost overwhelming urge to turn and run, Peter takes a tentative step forward. When Ross doesn’t immediately emerge from nowhere with fury in his eyes, Peter quickens his pace, desperate to get in and out as fast as he can.

Peter rummages through the drawers in Ross’s desk, hand hovering over his cracked cell phone when he finally finds it. 

He’s going to get in so much trouble when he’s caught.

The sound of the front door opening sends a wave of adrenaline through his body.

Peter can hear conversation somewhere else in the house, but once he turns his phone on, the rest of the world melts away. 

There’s a message from Harry. 

‘Gone to L’s, don’t come after me. Love you all.’

Peter can feel his entire being deflate. Harry’s gone, and he didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.

Just like his parents, and Ben, and May-

Peter shakes his head, trying to will the thoughts away. This is nothing like that, Harry’s not dead. He’s not gone forever.

Even if it feels like it.

“Gwen,” Peter calls when he finally comes to his senses, running out of the bedroom. “Gwen, Harry’s-”

Peter stops in his tracks when he sees Gwen and Miles in the living room, a social worker staring at him quizzically from where she’s perched on the couch. 

“...staying late at his friend’s house,” Peter continues, locking eyes with Gwen. “He says not to wait up for dinner.”

From the way her eyes fill with tears, it’s evident that Gwen knows what he means. 

“Alright, well-” The social worker clears her throat. “I was just saying that I need to have a conversation with Miles, and we can go into a more private area, if that would make you more comfortable.” She looks between Peter and Gwen, eyeing them both suspiciously. 

“It’s fine,” Miles squeaks, anxiety evident in his voice. “Just- my uncle?”

The social worker smiles. “Your uncle is very close to getting temporary custody, Miles.”

Peter’s heart swells at how the declaration makes Miles’s face light up.

“When can I see him?” he asks, trying and failing to hide the anxiety behind the question. 

Peter rests a light hand atop the boy’s back, hoping that the touch would ground him.

“He has a home visit scheduled for the day after tomorrow, but since he was previously your guardian, he’s requested visitation-”

“I want to see him,” Miles interrupts. “I- if I accept visitation, when can I see him?”

“With your foster father’s permission, you can see him as early as tomorrow.”

Miles’s face falls. “Oh, I guess I’ll just wait until the home visit is done-”

“Bullshit.” 

All eyes turn to Peter as he scowls. “I’ll call him. Is verbal permission okay, or does he have to come and sign anything?”

The woman blinks slowly, surprised at Peter’s outburst. “Verbal permission is fine, but he’d have to call me after you guys talk about it as a family.”

Peter’s about to argue, but before he can, Gwen coughs loudly. “That’s perfect, thank you.” 

The social worker smiles, obviously relieved that Peter’s done protesting. She gets up to leave, and she’s halfway to the door when she stops in her tracks. “I almost forgot, he asked me to give you his phone number.” 

Miles practically starts vibrating with excitement at that piece of news.

“Of course, if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll just tell him that I can’t,” she starts, but before she can get any more words out, Miles is frantically shaking his head. 

“I’d like his phone number,” he stammers. 

The social worker smiles. “Here, I’ll write it down for you.”

When she does, Miles holds the piece of paper as if it was a piece of priceless treasure, which of course, it is to him. 

“Just make sure to tell your foster father if he ever tries to talk to you about inappropriate subjects or makes you uncomfortable in any way,” she instructs, but Miles is still enthralled by the scrap of paper. 

“Thank you,” Miles whispers, and it breaks Peter’s heart that he’s been separated from someone he’s this close to for so long. 

If Ben or May were alive and he had to live without them for weeks, Peter’s sure he wouldn’t be anywhere near as strong about it as Miles is. Hell, they’re not even here, and he still gets upset about them.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be going,” the woman announces in a cheerful tone. “Just make sure that Ross calls me about visitation-”

“Wait!” Gwen exclaims, blushing as the command comes out louder than she meant it to. “Do you remember Peni? She’s the little girl who used to live here.”

The social worker’s face lights up in recognition. “Of course I remember Peni! Such a little chatterbox, that one.”

“Is she okay?” Gwen asks, concern etched onto her face. “She’s with her dad, right? I know they’re in a whole different country, but do you know how she is?”

“I haven’t had any contact with her since she left.” 

Peter frowns. “But she’s okay, right?”

“I can say that I’m fairly sure that the decision to grant custody to her father had her best interests at heart,” the woman says, and Peter winces at how she sounds like she’s talking straight out of a legal textbook. 

“She loved him,” Gwen reminds him softly. “He loved her. I’m just being paranoid.”

Peter goes to respond, but he freezes when an idea floods to his head. 

“Is her dad’s number in her file?” Peter asks, eyes practically staring holes into the woman’s forehead. “I know she’s not in the system anymore, but would his number be in her old file?” 

The social worker sighs. “I suppose it would be.” 

“Can you get it for us?” 

Gwen’s question makes the woman sigh, but to Peter’s surprise, she surrenders. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Peter, Gwen, and Miles watch as the woman leaves, genuine smiles painting each of their faces for the first time in way too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I know a lot of you were hoping that Ross would be gone for good, but it's all in due time. 
> 
> Also, I know I say this every time, but thank you so much for your comments. Reading them genuinely makes my day, and I love hearing what you think so far. 
> 
> This gets worse before it gets better, so strap in.
> 
> My wonderful beta is [EnchantingWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting), she writes very well but pronounces crayon as "cran." Do with this information what you will.
> 
> My Tumblr is [Astro_cat13](https://astro-cat13.tumblr.com)!


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